


foolishly, completely falling

by xavierurban



Series: JayTim Month-ish 2019 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: A Death in the Family - Fandom, Detective Comics (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Absent Parents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Batman: A Death in the Family, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Child Neglect, Civilian Tim Drake, Classism, Falling In Love, Fix-It, Gen, Gun Violence, Hurt Jason Todd, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jack Drake's A+ parenting, Janet Drake's A+ Parenting, Jason Todd is Robin, M/M, POV Tim Drake, Soulmate AU, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Underage - Freeform, Underage Kissing, a death in the family fix-it, aka that time jason got shot four times by the mad hatter, batman begrudgingly pseudo-adopts another small child, detective comics 573-574, do tim’s parents even exist? we just don’t know, gotham academy is k-12 so tim and jay are schoolmates, implied/referenced batcat and birdflash, jaytim week 2019, kids in love, most of it is casual/unintentional by tim but in the narrative nonetheless, seventh and ninth grade respectively, shared pain soulmate au, that is to say:, tim is kind of a jerk but he doesn’t exactly mean to be, tim still figures out all the bats’ identities just not the canon way, violence against a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-08-14 16:47:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20195476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xavierurban/pseuds/xavierurban
Summary: Tim Drake figures out Robin is his soulmate, and decides to start stalking Gotham’s dynamic duo in the hopes of learning more about the other boy and maybe, just maybe, getting the chance to talk to him. Jason Todd notices the boy from next door stalking himself and Bruce when they’re out in the streets at night, and decides to befriend the boy in their civilian lives in order to find out what the kid wants from them.





	1. part i

**Author's Note:**

> i know i'm a few hours early, but i've got a busy day tomorrow and i wanted to get the first part of this story up without too much delay. this is my first entry for jaytim "week" 2019, because i could not for the life of me figure out a story for the first week's prompt >.>; i'm not realy trying to go for bingo, so this is really just centred on the main prompt: soulmates.
> 
> i've done my best to tag all the warnings i can think of, but if you feel that i've missed something, please let me know!
> 
> title from truly, madly, deeply by one direction, mostly because i spent well over an hour trying to find the perfect title and eventually just gave up, lol.
> 
> please see end-note for a more comprehensive timeline. spoilers for the first little section of the fic.

Tim had never given much thought to his soulmate when he was little; his mother had told him that he might find them someday, or he might not, but that even if he did, they might not be able to be together, and that was that.  
  
Tim was a Drake, and that meant he had a responsibility to uphold the family name, and if destiny had decided on someone who wouldn’t fit that image, then he was just going to have to settle like his own parents had.  
  
Whoever Tim’s soulmate was, though, they sure seemed to get hurt a lot. From the day Tim had turned ten, he’d been able to feel their suffering, just like he was supposed to. He just didn’t think he was supposed to feel so _much_ of it. It worried him, more than he cared to admit, but there was nothing he could do about it, not without knowing who they were.  
  
It’s close to two years later that he thinks he might have figured out the who.  
  
The pain had grown more sporadic, around the end of December, and, then, a few months later, not quite a year after Tim had first started to feel his soulmate's pain, it had actually started to stop, though Tim supposes it had changed more than stopped. It was no longer the sharp ache of what had to be beatings, and more the soreness of tired, strained muscles interspersed with the dull throb of single bruises, and it had stayed that way for nearly half a year.  
  
And then, suddenly, the pain was back with a vengeance, and Tim often found himself waking up in the middle of the night feeling the sharp sting of bruises and cuts that weren’t his own, the occasional blinding pain of a broken bone.  
  
He’s watching the news one morning when it hits him, and he immediately buries himself in research until he’s satisfied with his conclusion. It doesn’t explain some of the earliest pains he can remember feeling, not if he’s right in his theory that the boy running around next to Batman now isn’t the same boy it used to be, but. The more recent pain, that all fits. Almost too well to be a coincidence.  
  
He’s especially sure when, crouched down a few rooftops away from where the dynamic duo are fighting off some of Two-Face’s goons two weeks later, his wrist flares with pain at the same time one of the goons gets his hand around Robin’s and snaps it with a sick noise that Tim hears even from where he’s hiding. Tim bites his tongue so hard he can taste blood to keep from screaming, but Robin doesn’t even seem to react to the pain. He just keeps fighting, until he and Batman come out on top, just like they always do.  
  
Finally, he cradles his wrist to his chest, and his shoulders hunch up in a way that Tim thinks means maybe he’s expecting another blow. It makes Tim’s gaze narrow, and he thinks back to how his soulmate’s pain used to be, and how the new Robin talks like he’s from the East End. It doesn’t paint a pretty picture, but it’s a picture that Tim thinks might just make sense.  
  
When Batman reaches out for him and Robin flinches away before reluctantly letting his partner take his hand to carefully inspect the injury, Tim is certain that he’s right in both conclusions.  
  
One, the second Robin is his soulmate. And, two, said soulmate had been abused before becoming Robin. The second conclusion has Tim aching to reach out to the other boy, to comfort him and show him that it’s all going to be better now.  
  
Too bad his parents will never let them be together, when they find out his soulmate is from Park Row.

* * *

Even though he’s already figured it out, Tim keeps following Batman and Robin around whenever he can. He’s not really expecting to figure out who they are outside of their masks, not when he can’t hope to keep up with the Batmobile when it leaves town at the end of each night, but. Well, it’s exciting, knowing that his soulmate is someone so special, and if this is all Tim can have for right now, he doesn’t want to waste a moment of it.  
  
He puts it together pretty quickly that Robin only really patrols on Fridays and Saturdays, before the summer arrives, which means that, East Ender or not, the other boy must still be in school, and Batman is probably trying to make sure he stays that way. It makes Tim wonder how the two of them even met, if Robin had been recruited somehow. Maybe Batman had saved him, and, somehow, ended up taking him on as a protege. Or maybe Robin, a tough but resourceful little Crime Alley stray, had helped Batman out of a sticky situation and proved himself a worthy partner.  
  
Tim had thought he was being stealthy in his pseudo-stalking, had perhaps gotten complacent after several months of it, but he should have known better than to think that he could pull one over on the Bat for as long as he had. He hadn’t even noticed that Robin had disappeared from Batman’s side until he hears the sound of someone landing on the roof a few feet from him. He has no doubts that the noise was made for his own benefit.  
  
“Yanno,” Robin says, and Tim turns to him with his eyes wide, “B thinks ya stalkin' us is, like, a fan thing, but I got my money on somethin' more pathological.”  
  
Tim squeaks, and immediately wants to kick himself. Sure, Robin doesn’t know they’re soulmates, but that doesn’t mean Tim wants to embarrass himself in front of the guy! He’s going to find out someday, probably, and what if he just remembers Tim as the weird kid from the rooftop?  
  
The other boy grins, seemingly oblivious to Tim’s inner turmoil, and jumps up onto the bulkhead of the stairway to loom over him.  
  
“So?” Robin asks, “Which is it, kid? Ya want an autograph or an ass-kickin'?”  
  
Tim clutches tighter to the camera in his hands, and tries to school his expression into something a little less starstruck, though he’s not sure how well he succeeds.  
  
“Um,” he says, utterly in-eloquent, and Robin feints towards him and then dissolves into a cackling laugh when Tim yelps and stumbles back a step.  
  
“Kid, ya should see yer face,” he says, pretending to wipe tears away from the edge of his mask, “Look, whatever yer reasonin', it ain’t safe out here for ya. Yer just a kid. The Bat says: go home, Mr. Drake.” Robin’s voice goes all growly as he mimics his partner, and Tim would find it cute if he wasn’t so stunned.  
  
“Oh my God, _ Batman knows my name _ ,” he manages to exclaim after finally picking his jaw up off the ground, and Robin smirks and flips down to land in front of him.  
  
“Damn, B was right,” he curses, and Tim tries not to be offended by the implications, “Now I have to patrol with ‘Wing next weekend.”  
  
“You’re going to Bludhaven?” Tim asks without stopping to think, and he hopes Robin can’t hear how put-out he feels.  
  
“What?” Robin asks, then shakes his head, “No. He’ll come here.”  
  
“ _ Cool _ ,” Tim murmurs, and Robin scoffs in a way that Tim thinks might mean he’s rolling his eyes behind his mask.  
  
“ _ Not _ cool,” he protests petulantly, “Nightwing's a total dweeb.” He frowns, and crosses his arms over his chest, “ _ Anyway, _ yer supposed to be leavin', kid. Find a new hobby before ya get yaself killed.”  
  
Tim sighs, and looks out at the Gotham skyline.  
  
The truth is, even disregarding Batman and Robin, Tim doesn’t exactly want to go home. It isn’t like there’s anyone waiting for him there, anyway, not with his parents away on another important dig and the housekeeper, Mrs. Alvarez, already gone until the morning.  
  
Robin straightens up suddenly and reaches up to touch his ear, where Tim realises he must be wearing some kind of communications device.  
  
“Copy that, Boss,” he mutters, and then reaches for the grappling gun on his utility belt. He spares one last look for Tim as he takes aim, and fires after telling him a final time to _ ‘go home.’ _ _  
_ _  
_Tim scrambles to catch a few photos of the other boy swinging away before he gives in and starts to trek back to where he’d stowed his bicycle.

* * *

If he wasn’t so distracted thinking about Robin and how he and Batman _know who he is_, Tim might’ve been a little more surprised when Bruce Wayne’s newest kid, Jason Wayne-né-Todd, sits down across from him in the school cafeteria the following Monday.  
  
They aren’t really what you’d call friends, not even by the superficial definition of Gotham’s elite, but they _have_ met, and Tim doesn’t dislike him the way a lot of the other kids seem to. The guy is smart, as far as Tim can tell, he’s just… You know. Decidedly _not _your typical high society Gothamite, and Tim finds him difficult to be polite to, at times.  
  
He’s pretty sure the ambivalence is mutual.  
  
“Hey, Timbo,” Jason greets casually as he twists the cap off of his chocolate milk, “Big project comin’ up? Lookin’ a lil’ tired is all.”  
  
Tim frowns, and does his best not to self-consciously rub his eyes.  
  
“Yeah,” he lies, because it’s easier than either telling the truth or trying to come up with a better cover-story on the spot.  
  
Jason looks at him for a long moment before snorting.  
  
“Kid,” he says, “Weekends are for sleepin' in, ya know that, right?”  
  
Tim rolls his eyes as Jason takes a long swallow of his drink, and picks at his own fries.  
  
“You’re, like, two years older than me,” he points out, “If I’m a kid, then so are you.”  
  
Jason scowls at that before quickly schooling his features.  
  
“I ain’t been a kid in a long time, Drake,” he says, smirking as he adds, “Ain’t really any childhood in the Alley.”  
  
That right there is why Tim doesn’t really _enjoy _talking to Jason, because he’s pretty sure the tough guy schtick he has going on is at least seventy-percent bravado, and it’s kind of annoying. Like, sure, Tim doesn’t doubt that he’s probably seen some messed up things growing up where he did - he reads the papers, okay - but Jason’s been living with Mr. Wayne for like a year and a half now. Move on already.  
  
“Right,” he says, finally, “Did you need something? You know, other than to tell me how to live my life.”  
  
Jason seems a bit taken aback by that, but he bounces back quickly, his smirk firmly back in place as he shrugs one shoulder.  
  
“Can’t I just wanna get t'know the boy next door better?” He asks, batting his eyelashes a little and grinning at the way it makes Tim blush.  
  
“Uh,” Tim stammers, “I- I’m not exactly interesting, sorry.” Jason doesn’t look like he believes that, for some reason, but he doesn’t outright deny it, and Tim glances around the cafeteria as if a way out of this conversation is just going to spring up out of nowhere.  
  
“I don’t bite, ya know,” Jason says, and Tim blinks, looking back over at him in confusion.  
  
“Wha…?” He starts to say, and the other boy just rolls his eyes.  
  
“Yer eyes are dartin’ around all crazy-like, like yer tryna decide which way t’run,” Jason explains, and the smirk on his lips says he’s amused, but there’s something in his eyes that says he’s not really, and Tim feels terrible all of a sudden, “I’m just- I didn’ come over here t’ steal yer lunch money, or whatever the rich kid equivalent of that is. Okay? So ya can chill, kid.”  
  
Tim looks at him for a long moment before sighing.  
  
“Okay,” he says, and Jason gives him a small smile.  
  
The silence that falls is a little awkward, then, and Tim eventually moves to pull out one of his notebooks, so he can start on his homework since they’re not talking, anyway. The cover has a giant picture of the Bat symbol in the center, and Jason snorts in amusement.  
  
“Batman, huh?” He asks, and Tim bristles.  
  
“So what?”  
  
Jason holds his hands up in acquiescence, “Nothin’! Was just gonna say Wonder Woman is way cooler, is all.”  
  
Tim scoffs at that, and gives Jason a withering look, “I prefer my heroes _not _super, it’s a reminder that even an average joe can do something good.”  
  
He doesn’t quite get the look that Jason gives him, then, but he shivers under the intensity of it anyway, because it feels a bit like the other boy is seeing right through him.  
  
“In that case,” Jason says eventually, and he’s wearing this shit eating grin that Tim just knows means he’s gonna hate whatever comes out of his mouth next, “I guess I’ll go with Green Arrow.”  
  
“Where is your Gotham loyalty?” Tim asks, surprised by the teasing way that it just slips out of him, and Jason chuckles and shrugs.  
  
“Geeze, I can’t win with ya, huh?” He jokes, and then heaves a put upon sigh, “Fine. Catwoman, then. Final answer.”  
  
Tim hums, and narrows his gaze at Jason for a moment. Catwoman isn’t really a _hero_, but… Well, Tim’s seen her with Batman and Robin a few times, and it usually ends in Robin being sent off to give them some _alone time _that Tim hopes he never accidentally gets an eyeful of ever again. Which is to say, she can’t exactly be a _villain_, either, not if Batman… _likes _her.  
  
But Jason wouldn’t really know that.  
  
“Catwoman isn’t a hero, she’s a thief,” he points out, and Jason huffs.  
  
“She can be both,” he argues, “Like Robin of Loxley.”  
  
“You can just say Robin Hood, you know,” Tim says, rolling his eyes, and Jason gives him a sharp grin.  
  
“Where’s the fun in that? _Everyone _knows who Robin Hood is,” he explains, the bell going off before he can finish the rest of his point. He frowns, and then shakes his head, and starts stuffing his lunchbox back into his backpack.  
  
Tim does the same with his notebook, and then stands up and grabs his lunch tray to go return it.  
  
“Uh…” He says, hesitating for a second, “Bye, I guess?”  
  
“See ya, Timmy,” Jason replies cheerfully as he slings his bag over his shoulder and then launches himself over the table to make a break for the cafeteria doors.  
  
Tim stares after him for a long moment, and then huffs out a laugh as he goes to toss out his trash and return his tray.  
  
What a weird lunch break.

* * *

Jason doesn’t start joining him on every lunch period after that, but Tim starts to find himself in the other boy’s company at least twice a week, sometimes even three. He’s not really all that sure how he feels about it, is the thing.  
  
They argue about their favourite superheroes a few more times (Jason gets uncharacteristically quiet when Tim mentions Nightwing), and talk about how all the rogues have such stupid gimmicks, but they rarely seem to hit on anything else they have in common. Jason makes weird literary references that Tim only sometimes gets, and Jason doesn’t seem to know anything about photography or video games.  
  
Tim doesn’t find himself dreading if Jason will turn up on any given day, but he doesn’t really look forward to it, either. It’s just kind of a… a thing, that either is or isn’t happening. It’s not as awkward as Tim worried it would be, but it’s hardly what he would call comfortable or easy, either.  
  
It is what it is, he supposes.

Tim still goes out on Fridays and Saturdays to follow Batman and Robin around, the only difference is now he knows that they know he’s there. It takes a few weeks, but Robin eventually drops in on him again - literally.  
  
Tim jumps back with a yelp when a caped figure lands in front of him, his hand flying up to his chest where his heart is beating wildly. He’d been making his way back to where he’d hidden his bike, constantly looking over his shoulder as he walked down the alley, but apparently he hadn’t thought to look _ up _ .  
  
Robin grins at him, clearly unrepentant about giving him a heart attack, and straightens up from the crouch he’d landed in.  
  
“What’s it gonna take fer ya t’ stop followin' us, Timmy?” He asks, and Tim tries not to smile over the way his name sounds rolling off of Robin’s tongue, “It ain’t safe out here fer a little thing like ya.”  
  
Tim jumps again at the sound of metal clanging somewhere not too far away, and Robin frowns as he goes still, hand held up to quiet Tim, and listens for a long moment before he seems to decide there’s no threat.  
  
“Yer awfully far from home,” Robin continues, and Tim looks away, his cheeks burning as he realises that Robin is _ scolding _ him, “Ya might not get hurt when yer followin’ us, but anythin’ could happen when yer goin’ home. It’s reckless, and if ya don’t stop, B’s gonna have to start draggin’ ya home himself, an' then we’ll be busy if something happens back in town.”  
  
Tim frowns at that, and finally looks at the other boy again, “That’s not fair! You’re making it sound like it would be my fault.”  
  
“Kinda would be,” Robin says coolly, and Tim can just tell that the expression behind his mask must be unimpressed.  
  
“I’ve been following you for five months, and I’ve-” _ only been jumped, like, three times _ , he thinks, but he definitely can’t say it, “-been just fine.”  
  
Robin cocks his head like he’s assessing Tim, which probably means that he doesn’t believe him, but whatever.  
  
“Yer luck won’t hold ferever,” he says finally, and Tim shrugs.  
  
“Maybe, but it’s my choice.”  
  
Robin sighs, loud and annoyed, and his shoulders drop a bit.  
  
“B’s not gonna be happy,” he mutters, and Tim just shrugs again, “At least lemme walk ya back t’ yer bike.”  
  
Tim smiles at that, and turns around to lead the way with a bounce in his step.  
  
“Thanks!”

* * *

Robin was right; Batman really _isn’t _happy when he approaches Tim the next night, Robin standing next to him with a sympathetic grimace on his face.  
  
"Timothy Drake," he says, and Tim shudders because, holy shit, that growl is _scary _when it's aimed at you, "Robin has told you twice now to stop following us."  
  
"And yet," Tim says shyly, ducking his head as he scuffs the toe of his shoe against the rooftop they’re standing on, "Here I am."  
  
Batman hums, and tilts his head slightly.  
  
"Yes," he agrees, "Here you are. Why?"  
  
Tim hesitates for a minute, and then holds up his camera, as if that will explain anything.  
  
Batman's hand twitches, and Tim wonders if it's because he wants to take the camera away. To destroy the evidence, so to speak.  
  
"Is someone paying you to follow us?" He asks, and Tim can tell that the calm in his voice is forced.  
  
Tim shakes his head, and hopes that Batman can read the genuineness on his face when he says, "No! No, I just… It's just a hobby."  
  
"Awful dangerous hobby," Robin pipes up, his arms crossing over his chest.  
  
"Robin is right," Batman agrees, "If simple photography is truly your aim, alone, at night, in Gotham is not the time for it."  
  
Tim shifts, shuffling his feet, and stares at the ground.  
  
"But I like taking pictures of you guys," he says softly.  
  
"That may be so," Batman responds, and Tim jolts slightly, looking up, when he feels a hand settle on his shoulder, "But it's unsafe. If you continue to follow us, I'm going to have to talk to your parents."  
  
Tim can't help it - he snorts.  
  
"What are they gonna do?" Tim counters, "Install a remote access lock on all the doors and windows? That’d be awful dangerous if there was ever a fire."  
  
Sure, Tim is perfectly aware that his parents wouldn't _approve _of his… extracurricular activities, but they're not in any position to stop him. It's kind of difficult to ground someone or enforce a curfew if you aren't around to follow up on it. Tim figured out how to set up call-forwarding on the home phone _years _ago.  
  
Batman frowns, and Tim can just _tell _that he’s being fixed with an assessing look from beneath the cowl.  
  
“Your guardian, then,” he finally says, and Tim fights to keep his expression neutral. Telling Batman that he’s often left alone overnight probably isn’t a great call, even if Tim knows that he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself.  
  
No one would be dumb enough to break into the Drake residence, anyway, and it’s not like he’s gonna have a stroke in his sleep. So what if he gets lonely and doesn’t have anyone around to tuck him in at night? If he’s sick, Mrs. Alvarez will actually stay the night, so it’s not the end of the world or anything.  
  
Somehow he doubts that Batman - or most other adults, for that matter - would agree.  
  
He chances a look at Robin, and is surprised to find a flash of understanding and sympathy on his face.  
  
“Please don’t,” Tim says finally, lowering his gaze and shrinking in on himself a little, “I- I don’t come out on school nights or anything, just like Robin, and I can take care of myself, promise.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Timothy,” Batman says, at the same time that Robin cuts in.  
  
“C’mon, B,” the younger vigilante says, “Not like we don’t know he’s there, anyway. I’ll keep a closer eye on 'im or whatever.” Batman opens his mouth to reply, but Robin steamrolls right over him, a nasty little smirk curling his lips, “S’not like he’s gettin’ into trouble or nothin’. I mean, he ain’t _me_.”  
  
“Hn.”  
  
Tim can’t help being curious about what that means - because Robin is a _hero_, not a kid who gets into trouble - but he knows better than to say anything, especially when the attention has moved from him for the time being.  
  
“Mister Drake isn’t a pet you can take responsibility for, Robin,” Batman mutters, and Robin smirks.  
  
“Well, obviously,” he says, sounding a lot more cheerful than Tim thinks the situation really calls for, “But ya said I can’t have a dog, so I’m bein’ resourceful.”  
  
Tim thinks he should probably be offended, but he’s _pretty sure _Robin is just joking around and not actually comparing him to an animal.  
  
Probably.  
  
Hopefully.  
  
“No,” Batman says, and there’s something very final about the word. He turns back to Tim, and frowns.  
  
“I’m sorry, Mister Drake,” he says, but, really, Tim doesn’t think he sounds very sorry at all, “But I cannot allow this to continue. If I see you out here again, I will be obligated to take actions to ensure your continued safety.”  
  
Tim can feel himself pouting, even if he’s too embarrassed to fully admit to it.  
  
“But-”  
  
“No buts!”  
  
He shrinks back a little at the force of Batman’s response, and Robin coughs pointedly, prompting Batman to take a deep breath and a step back.  
  
“Robin,” he says, and the boy in question straightens a little, “See that he gets home safely.”  
  
“Sure, Boss,” Robin replies easily, and then, in what feels like the blink of an eye, Batman is gone, and Tim is staring at the empty space he’d been standing in.  
  
“I still can’t figure out how he does that,” he murmurs, and Robin snorts.  
  
“Join the club, kid,” he says, and then claps his hands together, “Time t’get ya home.”  
  
Tim sighs, and hangs his head.  
  
“My bike is in the same place as last night,” he says after a moment, and as much as it’s going to suck to go home, at least they’ll have a bit of a walk ahead of them. Any time he gets to spend with Robin is worth it, in his books.  
  
Robin moves closer to him, and Tim looks up to catch a wide grin on his face.  
  
“Ya ever wondered what it’d be like t’fly?” He asks, and his hand drops down towards the grappling gun at his hip.  
  
Tim feels his eyes widen, and he just barely manages to nod his head, swallowing hard when Robin steps up even closer to him and takes out the gun.  
  
“Hold on tight,” he says, winding one arm around Tim’s lower back, and Tim scrambles to obey. He wraps both of his arms around Robin’s shoulders and, with some prompting, secures his legs around Robin’s waist.  
  
“Ready?” Robin asks, and Tim nods, tightening his grip a little more.  
  
Robin chuckles and steps towards the edge of the roof, and then it’s as if the world has dropped out from underneath him and Tim screams, clinging tightly to the other boy and screwing his eyes shut as the other boy laughs, bright and clear, as they swing through the air.

* * *

Tim had spent most of the previous day in a daze, floating on the memory of being held tightly to Robin as they flew together through the night sky. After the initial terror and nausea, Tim had managed to open his eyes, and it had been amazing.  
  
It wasn’t the view, per se. He’d already seen plenty of Gotham from high up in his nightly adventures, but the blur of movement, the feeling of the wind whipping over and around him, the flip in his stomach every time they dipped lower only to swing back up high… It was really something else.  
  
Like Robin had said: it felt like flying.  
  
The fact that he’d gotten to experience such a thing with his soulmate - even if Robin didn’t know that - only made it that much better.  
  
But come Monday morning, something else was starting to set in, too. More than one something, really.  
  
The thought of Batman’s warning burst his bubble of happiness every time it filtered back into his mind, leaving him anxious, and frustrated, and, honestly, a little bit angry.  
  
It wasn’t _ fair _ .  
  
Batman couldn’t tell him what to do, he wasn’t his _ dad _ . Not that his own dad really did much dading, anyway, which only made the entire situation that much more frustrating.  
  
Tim isn’t stupid, he knows what Batman meant when he said that he’d have to “take action,” and he is _ not _ okay with the Bat finding a way to get in touch with his parents. It was true, that they wouldn’t really be able to stop him from going out, not in the long run, but Tim didn’t want to have to listen to their disappointment and condescension when they inevitably called to follow up.  
  
Or, worse, have them come home unexpectedly when they'd only left a month ago.  
  
Not that he doesn’t _ want _ them to come home, because he does, more than he liked to admit most days, but if they have to cut their most recent trip short just to come home and deal with him, they wouldn’t be happy, and that was worse than them not being there at all.  
  
It wasn’t Batman’s place to meddle in Tim’s life; he wasn’t one of his rogues, or thugs, or troublemakers. He was just a kid, and he wasn’t doing anything _ wrong _ .  
  
He’d been stewing in his anger for most of the morning, and, come lunch time, Tim had only managed to work himself into an even worse mood. He’s stabbing viciously at his cafeteria pasta when a shadow falls over the table and someone thunks their lunchbox down across from him.  
  
“What’s got yer panties in such a knot?”  
  
Tim looks up, features drawn into a scowl, and takes in the sight of Jason sitting down across from him. The older boy merely raises an expectant eyebrow at him, propping his arm up on the table and setting his chin against his hand. Tim’s shoulders draw up a bit, his posture tightening.  
  
“Seriously,” he continues, “Ya look like somethin’ crawled up yer ass ‘n died.”  
  
“Charming,” Tim spits, turning back to his lunch.  
  
Jason sighs, and Tim can just imagine the way he must be rolling his eyes as takes out his own lunch.  
  
“Alright, fine,” he says, “S’not like I really care anyway.”  
  
Tim scoffs at that, and stuffs a forkful of penne into his mouth so he doesn’t have to answer.  
  
Jason seems to get the hint, falling silent as he eats his own lunch, and Tim feels himself slowly starting to relax. It’s… kind of nice, not to be entirely alone, and even better to be so without having to explain what he’s upset about.  
  
“Sorry,” he says, eventually, and Jason just shrugs.  
  
“S’ok,” he says easily, pausing to take a long swallow of orange juice, “I ain’t a stranger to anger.”  
  
Tim snorts at that, and shakes his head. No, he supposes, he probably isn’t.  
  
He’s quiet for another long moment before actually looking up at the other boy with a smile that’s only half-forced.  
  
“Thanks,” he says, “For not pushing.”  
  
Jason gives him a small smile in return, and then busies himself with repacking the empty containers into his lunchbox before he pulls out another one and pops the lid off of it.  
  
“Here,” he says, offering the container towards Tim, “Alfie makes the best cookies, but I prolly don’t need to eat all of ‘em.” He chuckles, and knocks his free fist against his stomach, “These abs don’t make themselves.”  
  
Tim rolls his eyes, even as a blush dusts across his cheeks. He reaches out shyly, and takes one of the offered cookies.  
  
“Thanks,” he says, and Jason beams at him.  
  
By the time lunch ends, Tim can almost pretend like he was never angry to begin with.

* * *

Tim doesn’t notice the knocking at first, but in his defence, he’s not exactly _used _to people knocking on his window; he's on the fourth floor, for God’s sake! He ends up jumping half out of his seat when his window suddenly goes up, though, a strangled little scream escaping him as he turns towards the window with wide eyes.  
  
The fear recedes quickly, although his heart still feels like it’s pounding from the surprise when he realizes that it’s _Robin _slipping in through the window.  
  
Robin doesn’t say anything to him, just finishes climbing into the room and then closes the window behind himself. He looks around briefly, and then fixes Tim with a sheepish grin.  
  
“Have you ever heard of a doorbell?” Tim asks once his heart finally slows to a normal pace, and Robin laughs.  
  
“Where’s the fun in that?”  
  
Tim rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for Robin to elaborate, but the other boy stays quiet even as he starts to roam around the room. He picks up a few things off Tim’s dresser and shelves, looking them over curiously before carefully replacing them and moving on to the next, and Tim tries to contain his amazement that _Robin is in his bedroom. _  
  
“Um,” Tim says, coughing to clear his throat, “Why, uh, why are you here?”  
  
Robin shrugs, and keeps exploring the room.  
  
“Figured if we couldn’t convince ya t'stop followin’ us,” he explains, “Maybe we could compromise. I mean, unless yer hidin’ a buncha baddies in yer house, it’s safer here.” When Tim doesn’t say anything else, Robin eventually continues, “Like, ya ain’t gonna get any cool action shots, but I don’t really buy the whole wannabe photographer thing anyway... ”  
  
With that, Robin finally turns to look at him, and Tim huddles in on himself a little under the scrutiny.  
  
“Ya obviously want somethin’ from us,” he says, “So ya might as well just tell me, and we can go from there.”  
  
Robin stares at him expectantly for a long while, until Tim can't take it anymore, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind--  
  
\--which just so happens to be the truth.  
  
"You're my soulmate," he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush before he can slap his hand over it to stop them.  
  
He can't see Robin's eyes behind his mask, but he _can _see the perfect little "o" of surprise that his mouth makes. It would be cute, if Tim wasn't so mortified with himself.  
  
"I wasn't positive, at first," Tim explains, dropping his hand back into his lap, "But I've been following you long enough to work out that it's true. Like that time when one of Two-Face's goons broke your wrist, or when your line snapped and you pulled your shoulder when Batman caught you by the hand, or when you were wrestling with Nightwing on the roof of Wayne Enterprises and skinned your knee…"  
  
He's rambling, and he knows it, but he needs Robin to _believe _him and not just think he's some crazy fan. But Robin's face looks a bit pale, even in the warm lighting of Tim's bedroom, and his hands shake a little until he clenches them into fists at his sides.  
  
“Please say something,” he says eventually, his shoulders dropping a little as he lowers his gaze. He doesn’t see the way Robin opens and closes his mouth a few times, struggling to find words.  
  
“I have to go,” Robin finally says, and his voice sounds a bit choked.  
  
Tim looks up in alarm, and moves to get out of his chair before deciding against it; Robin probably wouldn’t appreciate Tim coming after him.  
  
“Wait,” he begs instead, as Robin moves back over to his window and opens it, “Please wait.”  
  
Robin looks at him for a long moment before climbing out the window.  
  
“Sorry,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, and then he’s gone.  
  
Tim turns back to his desk, hides his face in his hands, and lets the tears come.

* * *

Robin comes back on Wednesday night, and Tim can’t keep the bright smile off of his face when he opens the window to let the other boy in.  
  
“Hi!” He says, and Robin offers him a nervous smile in response.  
  
“Hey, kid,” he says after he climbs into the room and closes the window behind him. He hesitates for a moment, fidgeting with the end of his cape, and then says, “I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Tim says quietly, then gestures towards his bed, “Do you want to sit?”  
  
Robin chews at his bottom lip for a few seconds before nodding and moving over to the bed. He perches carefully at the foot of it, and Tim moves over to join him, leaving a few inches of space between them.  
  
“Yer really sure?” Robin asks after a few minutes have passed in silence, and he sounds equal parts hopeful and terrified, and it makes something in Tim’s chest ache.  
  
“Yeah,” he says, then starts to stand up as he adds, “But- But if you want me to prove it, I-”  
  
Robin looks over at him, cutting him off with a sharp, “No!”  
  
Tim just blinks, sitting back down.  
  
“No,” Robin repeats, more calmly this time, “I’m not gonna make ya prove it.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
The silence settles around them again, and Tim shifts uncomfortably before blurting out the first question that comes to mind.  
  
“What’s your favourite movie?”  
  
Robin looks a little startled, and he stares at Tim for a long moment before he seems to relax.  
  
“Pride and Prejudice,” he says, and Tim can’t help the surprised expression that spreads across his face, “Not the old one. The one with Keira Knightley.”  
  
Tim blinks a few times, and then giggles.  
  
“I was expecting something with more bad guys,” he admits, and Robin smirks.  
  
“Nah,” he explains, “Maybe before, but now I just end up pickin’ out all the stuff that ain’t right.”  
  
Tim hums at that, and decides it makes sense.  
  
“Whattabout yer’s?”  
  
“Um,” Tim says, blushing as he averts his gaze, “The Silence of the Lambs.”  
  
Robin snorts, and Tim blushes harder.  
  
“Are ya even old enough t’watch that?” Robin asks, and Tim gives an offended huff.  
  
Technically, no, he isn’t, but he’s mature for his age, thank you very much.  
  
Besides, Robin’s not technically old enough to watch it, either. At least, Tim's pretty sure he isn't.  
  
“Okay,” Robin says, and Tim glances over at him, “How ‘bout… What’s yer favourite colour?”  
  
Tim rolls his eyes at the question, but answers anyway.  
  
“Red.”  
  
Robin grins, and says, “Hey! Me too.”  
  
They trade questions back and forth for close to an hour, and Tim is relieved to see that Robin relaxes more and more with each minute that passes. It turns out that they don’t share a lot of the same favourites, but they still have a lot in common, especially regarding music and movies, and Tim can’t help but send a silent thank you up to the universe. Sure, they’re soulmates, but there’s _also _that old saying that opposites attract, so you can never be too sure. Tim’s glad they seem to have so much common ground.  
  
“Does Batman know you’re here?” Tim thinks to ask eventually, and Robin shrugs noncommittally, which is probably answer enough.  
  
“I… should prolly go,” Robin says, though, and Tim tries not to be disappointed; it _is_ getting late, after all.  
  
“Will you come back?” He asks, and Robin ducks his head.  
  
“If ya want me to,” he finally says, and Tim beams at him.  
  
“Yes!” He exclaims, “I mean, um, I’d really like it if you did. Maybe… Maybe we can watch Pride and Prejudice sometime? Or, um, Bullet in a Bible, since you said you haven’t seen it.”  
  
Robin grins, and looks back up at Tim.  
  
“Sounds great,” he says, “I think B’s got an old ABBA dvd somewhere...”  
  
Robin pauses, and then makes a face.  
  
“Actually, it’s prolly D- Nightwing’s,” he says, and Tim raises an eyebrow at the slip-up, but keeps his mouth shut, especially when he sees the way Robin’s shoulders start to tense up.  
  
“I’d believe that,” Tim says softly, and Robin snorts.  
  
“It’s the v-neck, isn’t it?” He asks, and Tim giggles.  
  
“And the collar,” he replies, and Robin laughs, the tension easing out of him.  
  
“I guess I’ll see ya, then, huh?” He asks after a moment, and Tim nods, following him over to the window when he gets up.  
  
“Goodnight, Robin,” he says shyly, and Robin gives him a soft smile.  
  
“Night, Timmy,” he says, and then drops backwards out of the window with a _whoop_.  
  
Tim watches him turn himself around in the air and then shoot his grapple towards a tree further back on the property, and smiles to himself.

* * *

Robin comes back the next night, just like he’d promised, but he doesn’t come _every _night. Obviously Tim isn’t expecting him on patrol nights, but he can’t really find any rhyme or reason to the weeknights when Robin _does _come over.  
  
So he learns not to count on the visits, per se, but it’s not like he really has much of a life, anyway, so it’s never an inconvenience when he does show up.  
  
Mostly, when he does, they watch movies together, or listen to music, and while they do talk, it’s clear that Robin is keeping a lot to himself.  
  
Tim tries not to be hurt by that. He knows that Robin has a lot of really important secrets, and that he has to be careful about how much he tells Tim, but it still hurts to know that his soulmate is _right there_, but that Tim can’t have all of him.  
  
_Someday_, he tells himself, _someday he’ll trust me enough to tell me the whole truth._  
  
For those first two weeks, Tim stays home on the weekends. It’s mostly because he doesn’t want Batman to follow through on his threats, but also because, well, he doesn’t _need _to follow them around anymore, not now that Robin is his friend for real.  
  
He wakes up with a gasp of pain on that second weekend, and decides that, no, he can’t just not follow them around, because he needs to _know_. He needs to be able to see with his own two eyes that Robin is safe, that he’s not _badly _hurt. Feeling his pain without being able to see him is just too hard.  
  
Batman isn’t very happy to see him the next weekend, but Tim stands his ground and Robin takes his side, even though it earns him a rather sharp reprimand from his mentor.  
  
The weekend after that is just before Halloween, and Scarecrow breaks out of Arkham in the middle of the night. Tim finds himself locked up safe and sound inside the Batmobile while Batman and Robin go after the rogue. He knows he should probably be freaked out, but he’s too busy trying not to look like a loser (no _way _Batman doesn’t have a camera in the car!) due to his excitement.  
  
But.  
  
_He’s sitting inside of the freaking Batmobile!_  
  
The.  
  
Batmobile.  
  
Is this his real life?  
  
As much as he wants to explore all of the buttons and gadgets that he can see, Tim forces himself not to touch anything, going so far as to sit on his own hands for a while until the temptation becomes more manageable.  
  
Batman doesn’t kill, but that doesn’t mean some of those buttons don’t control weapons, and pressing them carelessly could do a lot of damage.  
  
They’re out all night, and Tim is starting to get worried. He can tell that Robin is hurt, but it’s a relatively dull ache, so he’s trying not to all-out panic, but it’s hard when the sun is already starting to come up, and Batman and Robin are still not back.  
  
He’s glad, at least, that Mrs. Alvarez has the weekend off, so it’s not like anyone is going to notice that Tim isn’t home.  
  
Tim startles from his half-awake daze when the Batmobile’s canopy opens about half an hour after sunrise. Batman’s expression is grim, and Tim’s attention zeroes in immediately on Robin, lying unconscious and wrapped up in his own cape, in Batman’s arms.  
  
“Is he okay?” Tim asks, and he can hear the fear in his own voice, so there’s no way that Batman misses it.  
  
Batman sighs, and carefully sets Robin down in the back seat. He hesitates, and then reaches out to smooth the boy’s hair back before he climbs into the front seat and closes the canopy.  
  
“He’ll be fine,” he finally says, gruff and to the point, “He was hit with fear gas. I sedated him after giving him an antidote.”  
  
Tim swallows hard, and keeps his eyes fixed forwards.  
  
“Oh,” he says, and then, “But you got him, right? Scarecrow?”  
  
Batman nods, but he doesn’t look like he’s very pleased about it.  
  
Or maybe it’s something else that’s bothering him.  
  
He starts driving in silence, and Tim yawns, then blushes as he looks down.  
  
Batman frowns, and says, “I apologize for keeping you out.”  
  
“S’ok,” Tim murmurs, fighting to keep his eyes open, “Catching bad guys is more important than taking me home first.”  
  
Batman hums, but he doesn’t sound completely pleased with Tim’s assessment, so Tim looks over at him.  
  
“You kept me safe,” he says, “_And _you trusted me inside your car, even though I know you don’t really like me, so. You don’t really need to be sorry.” He shrugs, and looks away again, “Thank you, though. For protecting me.”  
  
Things are quiet for a little while, and Tim is nearly asleep, slumped against the passenger side window, when he hears Batman grumble, “I don’t not like you.”  
  
Tim’s lips curl into a small smile, and he lets himself drift off to sleep.  
  
He wakes up, briefly, when Batman lifts him out of the car and carries him into his house, but he’s asleep again by the time they make it to his bedroom.

* * *

The visits from Robin continue the following week, so Tim figures Batman can’t be _ too _ pissed about having needed to deal with him. He’s also pretty impressed by how quickly Robin seems to have bounced back from his experience with the fear toxin. Tim’s been fortunate enough to never be caught in it himself, but he’s heard some really awful things from survivors. He’s honestly kind of curious about how quickly the antidote Batman mentioned kicks in, and if it stops it in its tracks or just lessens its potency, but he thinks it might not be appropriate to ask, so he doesn’t.  
  
Instead, he spends the first visit gushing about the Batmobile, and how cool it was to ride inside of it, and Robin keeps giving him these fond smiles that make Tim’s cheeks heat up uncomfortably.  
  
When Robin comes back on Wednesday night, he’s weirdly quiet, so Tim simply loads up one of the movies on their list and decides that he shouldn’t push.  
  
They’re about halfway through _ Across The Universe _ when Robin asks, “Could ya keep a secret?”  
  
Tim blinks, and pauses the movie before turning to look at the other boy.  
  
“Um,” he says, “I kind of already am?”  
  
Robin lets out an amused huff, and crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed on his lap.  
  
“No, I know, but,” he hesitates, then continues, “If it were, like, maybe life-or-death kinda important, not just don’t-wanna-get-grounded important. Could ya?”  
  
Tim thinks about it for a long moment, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows his answer. The last thing he wants is for Robin to think he isn’t giving the question the gravitas it deserves.  
  
“Yeah,” he finally says, “I mean, yes. I could do that.”  
  
Robin looks at him, then, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Tim shudder.  
  
“Even if someone threatened ya?” He asks, “Or yer parents?”  
  
Tim looks him in the eyes, and squares his shoulders.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Robin seems to deflate at that, and looks away again. He’s quiet for a few minutes, and then--  
  
“I wanna tell ya who I am,” he says quietly, “But I’m scared B won’ let me.”  
  
Tim doesn’t say anything for a moment, trying to keep himself from getting his hopes up too high.  
  
“He’s going to have to let you someday, right?” He finally asks, and Robin sighs.  
  
“I mean, maybe?” He says, “It’s… complicated. Be easier t’ hide this side of me if ya’d found me as a civilian first. But now...”  
  
Robin huffs, frustration clear in every tensed muscle of his body, “It’s not just myself I’d be compromisin’. Ya’d figure out who B an’ ‘Wing are in ten seconds flat, an’ then ya’d prolly guess who KF is ‘cuz of Nightwing, an-”  
  
“It’s okay,” Tim says, because Robin is starting to work himself up, “I really, really would love to know, and I promise I would never ever _ ever _ tell anyone about who _ any _ of you are, but… But I understand, if you can’t.”  
  
Robin sighs, and it’s a painfully dejected sound.  
  
“But I wan’ to,” he whispers.  
  
Tim hesitates for a moment, and then leans sideways to rest his head on Robin’s shoulder.  
  
“You won’t know until you ask, right?”  
  
Robin’s shoulders tense up before slowly relaxing back down.  
  
“I guess.”  
  
Tim chews at his bottom lip for a few seconds before saying, “Or… He doesn’t have to know that I know.”  
  
He glances up at Robin’s face, and catches his lips twisting into a frown. Immediately, he sits back up, and hunches in on himself.  
  
“Sorry,” he says, “I mean, that’s a bad idea, I’m sorry. You probably shouldn’t do that.”  
  
Robin’s frown only deepens, and he seems to hesitate before he reaches out to wrap an arm around Tim’s shoulders, pulling him back in against his side. Tim blushes, but gives in easily, relaxing against the other boy.  
  
“S’ok,” Robin mutters, “I thought ‘bout that, too. Just… World’s Greatest Detective, ‘n all that.”  
  
Tim hums, and reaches out to hit play on the movie.  
  
“Then ask him,” he says, then glances up at Robin, “Tell me what he says?”  
  
Robin looks down at him with a hesitant smile, and nods.  
  
“Yeah,” he says, “‘Course, Timmy.”

* * *

He and Robin don't really get much of a chance to talk over the weekend, fighting crime keeping the dynamic duo too busy. Robin does, however, manage to steal a few minutes for him early on into Saturday night's patrol.  
  
He lands without a sound, and Tim jumps a mile out out his skin when he suddenly feels arms wrapping around him. A hand comes up to cover his mouth and abort his scream, and a familiar cackling reaches his ears.  
  
He relaxes, although he can't quite keep the scowl off his face until Robin starts spinning him around. Tim is giggling, and honestly a little bit dizzy, by the time his feet are back on solid ground.  
  
"B said he'd think 'bout it!" Robin announces, his grin wide as he drags Tim in for a quick hug, "I've got a real good feelin', Timmy!"  
  
Tim smiles brightly, and wishes he could hug Robin again and just keep him close, but he can already see Batman beckoning Robin back to him from a rooftop across the way.  
  
"That's amazing!" He says, rushing the words out as Robin reaches for his grappling gun, "I'll see you this week either way, right?"  
  
Robin smirks.  
  
"Course ya will, baby bird," he says cheekily, throwing a wink at Tim before he swings off to return to his mentor.  
  
Tim's cheeks feel like they're burning for the rest of the night, the nickname playing through his mind over and over again.


	2. part ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while i know that jason getting shot by the mad hatter happened relatively early into his robin career (since it’s implied that he’s twelve a few issues prior), i’ve pushed it later for Plot Reasons. i’ve also pushed his age up just slightly, as you already know. 
> 
> the tags regarding the drakes and child neglect are especially relevant to this second part of the story, so just a heads up there for anyone needing a warning.

Tim jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and then promptly blushes at being caught so thoroughly spaced out as he looks up at Mrs. Alvarez.  
  
_ Busted _ , he thinks. He's supposed to be working on his homework, not daydreaming about Robin.  
  
Mrs. Alvarez gives him a fond smile, and holds the phone out to him.  
  
“Your parents,” she explains, and Tim straights up as he reaches for the phone.  
  
“Oh,” he says, “Thank you.”  
  
She nods at him, and then slips away to continue… Well, whatever she was doing before she’d answered the phone.  
  
Tim hadn’t even noticed it ringing.  
  
“Mom?” He asks as he raises the phone to his ear, “Dad?”  
  
“Hello, Timothy,” his mother replies, and Tim can tell by the crackle of background noise that he’s on speakerphone.  
  
“Hey, champ,” his father says, and Tim feels warm at the endearment for all of ten seconds before he registers the thread of tension in their voices.  
  
_ What’s wrong _ , he wants to ask, but he knows his parents don’t like it when he’s too negative.  
  
“How's school been?” His dad asks, and Tim shrugs even though they can’t see him.  
  
“It’s okay,” he says, and someone - his mother, he thinks - lets out a huff of air, “I mean, I’m doing really good in all my classes. I got a ninety-eight on my last Science test.”  
  
“That’s great, son,” his dad says, and Tim can’t help but smile.  
  
“Thanks,” he says, and then hesitates before saying, “How’s the dig going?”  
  
“It’s going very well, Timothy,” his mother replies, and Tim’s smile falters, “That’s what we’re calling about, actually.”  
  
Tim feels his stomach sink at that, because he already knows what’s coming.  
  
“Oh,” he says, and it sounds weak to his own ears, but he hopes his parents will take it as curiosity instead of disappointment, and they do.  
  
“We’ve found a lot of evidence that we’re onto something big,” his father explains, and Tim holds back a sigh.  
  
“You need to stay,” he says, and there’s no mistaking that it’s not a question.  
  
They were supposed to be coming home next week, and they were going to be staying for a whole month. Despite knowing better, Tim had been tentatively looking forward to it. They were going to celebrate Christmas early, and his dad had even promised to take him to one of the Devils’ hockey games.  
  
“It would be irresponsible of us to leave right now,” his mother says, and Tim curls his fingers into a fist so tight that he can feel his nails biting into the palm of his hand, “If we’re away from the site when a major discovery is made...”  
  
She trails off, but Tim understands.  
  
That’s the worst part, really, that he gets it.  
  
But that doesn’t mean he has to like it.  
  
“Sorry, champ,” his dad says after a moment, “We’ll come home as soon as we can, alright? You can hold down the fort for us a little longer, can’t you?”  
  
“Yeah,” Tim says quietly, then clears his throat, “I mean, of course I can.”  
  
“Atta boy,” his dad praises, but it just feels hollow, and Tim blinks a few times in an attempt to clear away the fog that’s starting to cloud his vision.  
  
“I should go finish my homework,” he says, and he isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when his mother replies.  
  
“Of course, darling,” she says, “We’ll talk to you soon, alright?”  
  
“Sure, Mom.”  
  
His mother makes an unimpressed humming noise, and Tim shrinks in on himself a little more.  
  
“We love you, Timothy,” she says, and her voice sounds more gentle than it had throughout the rest of the call.  
  
“Love you, too,” he says back, careful to keep his tone even despite the fact that he can feel the tears starting to overflow and slide down his cheeks, “Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad.”  
  
“Goodbye, son,” his father replies, “We’ll be in touch.”  
  
There’s a muted little _ click _, and then the dial tone kicks in. Tim hits the power button and then sits the phone down on the table, staring at it for a few seconds before he puts his head down on the table and lets himself cry.

* * *

Tim isn’t sure if he’s upset or relieved when Robin doesn’t show up that night. On the one hand, he’d really, really like a hug, and maybe to just not be alone for a while, but on the other hand…  
  
Well, he doesn’t really want Robin to see how he keeps bawling his eyes out like a baby over something as dumb as his parents being too busy for his tastes.  
  
Tim doesn’t sleep well that night, and he wakes up with a headache from all the crying that persists through the morning despite the ibuprofen he snuck from the bathroom cabinet before he left for school. By the time lunch rolls around, all he wants is to call it a day, and curl up in his bed to sleep until the time when Robin usually shows up.  
  
But he can’t, because his parents would be disappointed to see any absences on his report card, and it would be an inconvenience to Mrs. Alvarez to have to come pick him up.  
  
So he forces himself to trudge along to the cafeteria, and waits in line to get lunch even though he’s not hungry. Or he doesn’t feel hungry, at least, but he knows that he should probably eat something, since he’d skipped dinner the night before, and only eaten a muffin for breakfast.  
  
He sits down at his usual table eventually, and picks half-heartedly at his fishsticks and vegetables.  
  
Maybe his parents will fly him out to visit them for Christmas, now that they aren’t going to be coming home. He thinks maybe he’d like that, even if it would mean being away from Robin. But if Robin was right and Batman really is going to let him tell Tim who he is, then does he really want to skip what could be their first Christmas together?  
  
Then again, maybe Robin would be busy with his own family, or with Batman and Nightwing, and he wouldn’t have time over the holidays to see Tim, anyway. If that happened, then Tim would _definitely _rather go see his parents.  
  
Even if they’d still be working and probably have to ignore him most of the time, anyway. At least he’d get to see them, which he hasn’t since they left for the dig at the end of the summer.  
  
It’s not like he isn’t used to them going away for a while, but it’s never been _this long _before. Even if they didn’t stay for long, they usually came home at least once every two months.  
  
It had already _been_ over two months, was already going to have been the longest they were ever gone, and now they weren’t even coming home at all.  
  
It wasn’t fair.  
  
“Hey, so I was thinkin’,” someone says, dropping down onto the bench directly across from Tim, “Ya should come over t’ the Manor after school.”  
  
Tim just stares at the boy in front of him for a long moment, not quite computing his words, until Jason waves a hand in front of his face.  
  
“Uhhh, hello?” He calls, “Earth to Timmy.”  
  
Tim shakes his head and hopes he isn’t blushing too hard with embarrassment, scowling a little to try and cover it up.  
  
“Sorry,” he mutters.  
  
Jason just shrugs, and rests his elbow on the table as he sets his chin on his hand, “S’ok. So, whataya say?”  
  
“Uh,” Tim says, stalling as he mentally replays Jason’s words.  
  
Does he really want to hang out with Jason outside of school? Honestly, he’s not even sure he wants to hang out with him _at _school, most days, so that’s probably a pretty good indicator. But it would be rude to just tell him no, wouldn’t it? It’s not like they don’t get along at all or anything.  
  
And it would beat being home alone, wouldn’t it?  
  
Except he wouldn’t be alone, hopefully.  
  
“I can’t,” he lies, and offers Jason a sheepish smile, “I’ve got, uh, a history paper to finish for tomorrow. Sorry.”  
  
Jason looks sad for about half a beat, before he bounces back with a shrug.  
  
“S'cool,” he says, “Whattabout t'morrow?”  
  
Tim hesitates, because he can’t really use the same excuse again. Fortunately, something else comes to mind quickly enough.  
  
“My parents are supposed to call me tomorrow,” he lies again, “They’re on a dig in Croatia, so I have to go right home since it’ll already be nighttime there.”  
  
Jason’s expression falls, and Tim _almost _takes it back, except. Well. It’s not like he owes Jason anything, right? And a kind lie is better than the truth. And the truth is not only that Tim doesn’t really want to hang out with him, but also that Tim is hoping he’ll be spending his time with _Robin _over the next few days, so it’s not really the most optimal time to be trying to make friends with anyone.  
  
Friends are small-time compared to spending his free time with his freaking _soulmate_.  
  
Jason starts to speak again, but he sounds decidedly more unsure than he had previously as he asks, “What abo-”  
  
“Look, I’m not interested in being your new best friend,” he finally snaps, cutting him off, and Jason’s jaw goes slack with his surprise for a moment.  
  
If Tim didn’t know any better, he’d say the other boy looks hurt, but that’s stupid, right? Whatever had prompted Jason to try and befriend him, it couldn’t have been anything genuine. More than likely, Mr. Wayne was after him to get to know some of his peers, and Jason figured he’d be the easiest to get his claws into since he didn’t have many friends himself.  
  
Or maybe Mr. Wayne wanted him to prove that he and Tim were friends, and Jason wasn’t just saying he’d made a friend at school when he hadn’t.  
  
Too bad, then, because Tim doesn’t have _time _to be his friend.  
  
He isn’t sure what compels him to keep going, if it’s just the bad mood that he’d been in all day, or if it’s that he’s seen how persistent Jason can be and Tim doesn’t expect him to take no for an answer quite so easily, but, whatever the reason, he does.  
  
“I’m not even all that interested in being your friend, period,” he says, “We don’t even have anything in common. So, you can stop, okay? You want to keep eating lunch with me, fine, whatever, but I’m not looking for someone to gossip with, or get into trouble with, and even if I _was _on the market for new friends, you’re not really the sort I’d pick out for myself.”  
  
Something dark flashes behind Jason’s eyes, and his expression hardens; Tim thinks he’d be afraid, if he wasn’t used to Batman scowling at him by now.  
  
“Yeah?” Jason bites out, “And what sort would that be? Cause last time I checked, we go t' the same school, we both live in Crest Hill, we both gots CEO parents, an' we’re _both_ on the fuckin’ Dean’s List.”  
  
Tim rolls his eyes, “We’re nothing alike and we both know it, Todd.”  
  
“_It’s Wayne_,” Jason snarls back, and Tim actually feels a little guilty until Jason continues, “But yer right, ya know. We ain't all that alike, after all, ‘cuz I don’t go 'round actin' like I’m better'n anyone.”  
  
Jason grabs his things and storms off at that, and Tim really does feel bad, then, when he notices that a few other students had been listening in and are now snickering amongst themselves.  
  
“Hey,” one of them says, leaning over towards Tim, “Don’t listen to him, man. You can dress the boy in a suit, but you can’t clean the gutter out of his veins. No one cares what he thinks.” He pats Tim on the shoulder, and then adds, “You made the right call.”  
  
“Thanks,” Tim mumbles, shifting awkwardly out of the other student’s grasp, “I gotta go, though.”  
  
He feels kind of sick as those words roll around in his head while he makes his way back to his locker. God, he’s such a jerk; Robin would be so disappointed in him. He’d probably have some kind of Crime Alley-native loyalty with Jason, after all.  
  
And, really, he hadn’t exactly meant to imply that he thought he was better than Jason, but he can easily see how it was taken that way. He’d just meant that they didn’t seem to share much in common besides those basics that the other boy had so helpfully pointed out. They come from two different worlds, and where Tim is quiet and withdrawn, Jason is brash and often over-confident. What would they even do, if they hung out? What would they talk about, when they still struggle to find topics to discuss over lunch?  
  
Not that it really bears thinking about anymore, not now that he’s put his foot in it so badly.  
  
Robin doesn’t show up that afternoon like Tim had hoped he might, and he doesn’t drop in to visit him that night, either, or the night after, or any other night that week, and he seems especially violent during his patrols over the weekend. Tim tries really hard not to be disappointed, and wonders what’s wrong, and if Robin will confide in him eventually, either when it’s dealt with or when he remembers that he’s got a friend to lean on now.  
  
He pointedly doesn’t think about the fact that, maybe, he could have had another friend to confide in, too, if he hadn’t been so tunnel-visioned about Robin.  
  
It might have beat sitting around at home, waiting for someone who might not even be coming.

* * *

Jason doesn't sit with him at lunch anymore, but Tim isn’t really surprised by that, even if it makes his stomach twist with guilt. He knows he should probably look for the other boy and try to apologize, but he isn’t sure he deserves to be forgiven or given a second chance.  
  
Maybe this is why his parents don’t want to come home, and why Robin is suddenly avoiding him. Maybe they can all see that he’s just a big jerk, and so they’re leaving him behind before he can push them away himself.  
  
Maybe that’s what he deserves.

Robin finally comes by on Tuesday night, but he doesn’t stay long.  
  
“Robin!” Tim calls when the other boy slips into his room, and he rushes over to the window to greet him with a hug. Robin is stiff in his arms for a moment, before he tentatively hugs him back.  
  
“Hey,” he says, ruffling Tim’s hair before he pulls back. He shifts uncomfortably, his shoulders pulling up a little bit as he continues, “Look, I can’t really stay. We gotta go n’ see the Commish about somethin’, just...”  
  
He hesitates, and Tim frowns, because if Batman is dragging Robin out with him on a school night, it must be important, and Robin’s hesitance in speaking is only making his own anxiety spike.  
  
“Is something wrong?” He asks, and Robin lets out a long breath.  
  
“B said no,” he finally blurts out, and Tim blinks in confusion for a few seconds--  
  
\--and then his heart sinks.  
  
“Oh,” he says, so quietly he’s not even sure Robin can hear him. He clears his throat, and tries to force a smile.  
  
“That’s okay,” he tells the other boy, “Maybe… Maybe when we’re older, right? He just means ‘not now,’ right?”  
  
Robin bites his lip, and then looks away.  
  
“I dunno,” he finally admits, and Tim can feel tears welling up in his eyes.  
  
“Sorry, kid,” Robin mutters, taking a step back towards the window, and Tim wonders when he became ‘kid’ again, “B just ain’t sure we can trust ya t’keep our secret.”  
  
“But-” Tim says, and then pauses to take a breath to try and calm himself, “But we can- You’ll still...”  
  
Robin looks pained, and he starts to reach out towards Tim before stopping himself and moving to climb half-way out the window before he looks at Tim again.  
  
“Maybe,” he finally says, “Sorry, I really do gotta go.”  
  
Tim nods, even though he’s sure his devastation is clear on his face. Robin lingers, looking at him for a moment longer and then disappearing into the night.  
  
Tim doesn’t cry, but he feels numb, like he’s just floating through the rest of the night; he barely even notices the lick of heat over his legs and arms, the sting of what he doesn’t even realise are burns until he watches the news the next morning.  
  
He _needs _to talk to Robin again, to talk to _Batman _again. To make them see that he’s trustworthy, and that it isn’t fair to try and keep him and Robin apart.  
  
The weekend can’t come fast enough.

* * *

Because his parents aren’t home, Tim isn’t there when the Mad Hatter attacks Mr. Wayne’s pre-election party early Friday evening - Batman and Robin showing up barely a few minutes later just as they had during the rogue’s last two robberies - but he _is_ watching the live footage that’s being streamed to the local news. What had started as Gotham Elite press coverage quickly turns sour as the Hatter and his crew show up with their weaponized hats.  
  
The visual on the dynamic duo is lost when they follow the Hatter up and out of the building, cameras focusing instead on the GCPD and SWAT officers who are trying to hold off the hats from hurting any of the party-goers. They’ve just switched over to a reporter standing in front of the building when a succession of loud _bangs _can be heard coming from somewhere nearby, and Tim drops to his knees with a scream that’s all but wrenched out of him.  
  
It feels like dying, or, at least, it feels like what Tim _thinks _dying would feel like, and he clutches at his chest and stomach as if it will do any good when he’s not _actually _the one injured. His vision starts to go fuzzy as he draws his attention back to the tv screen in front of him, and he gasps out a few shaking breaths as the cameraman zooms in on Batman. He’s used his grapple gun to rappel down the side of the building with Robin clutched tightly to his body; there’s blood all over the front of the boy's uniform, dripping down onto the snowy pavement as the Batmobile screeches to a halt in front of them.  
  
“Robin appears to have been shot,” the reporter says, and Tim lets out a hysterical, strangled laugh at how understated that is - after all, he would know. He can feel more than one central point of the pain, which means that Robin’s been shot _more than once_, and, oh God, he’d already started losing so much blood, judging by the puddle left behind on the sidewalk when the Batmobile pulls away.  
  
What if he dies? What if he dies, and Tim never gets to find out who he is? Never gets to see just how much they’d be able to love each other?  
  
He can’t let that happen, but he doesn’t really get any say in it. All he can do is vow that, if Robin survives, he won’t let the other boy push him away, won’t let Batman force him out of the picture.  
  
Robin is his _soulmate_, and he’s not going to let anyone stop them from being together.  
  
But how is he going to find Robin if he's too injured to patrol?  
  
Tim is still feeling pretty shaken up when he arrives at school the following Monday, comforted only by the fact that he knows Robin must still be alive, because the pain has dulled but not disappeared. It had been a close call, though, Tim has no doubts about that.  
  
Now that Jason doesn’t eat lunch with him anymore, Tim doesn’t really notice that he's absent from school that day. In fact, he doesn’t really pay it any mind at all, not until he realises that the other boy is still absent on Thursday when he overhears one of his classmates at the end of the day saying that they heard he got hurt at Mr. Wayne’s party the previous weekend.  
  
Someone else protests that they were _there_, and that Jason and Mr. Wayne both disappeared almost as soon as the chaos started and never showed back up after the police regained control. Something screeches to a halt in Tim’s mind, like a train that had been hurdling too fast down its tracks when the breaks were finally pulled, and he gasps before tossing his things in his bag and booking it back to his locker.  
  
Could it be?  
  
Tim wants to laugh, wants to say that it’s impossible, that there’s no way that _Bruce Wayne _is the freaking Batman, but-  
  
But it makes _sense.  
  
_He has the money, for one thing, and he’s got a vested interest in seeing justice served, there’s really no denying that. Even his build is right. And if Bruce is Batman, then-  
  
Then that means Jason is Robin.  
  
Robin, who talks with an East End accent and showed up at Batman’s side half a year after Bruce took Jason - an orphan from the streets of Park Row - in. Half a year where Tim felt his pain change into what was most certainly Robin’s _training_, instead of the results of the dangers of living on said streets.  
  
Then the first Robin…  
  
Dick Grayson, Tim realises, and he could hit himself, it’s so obvious. Nightwing, the first Robin, is all smooth movement and graceful flips, it practically _screams _trained acrobat, which Bruce Wayne’s ward just so happens to be.  
  
Holy crap.  
  
The Bats are the Wayne family.  
  
Another thought hits him like a brick, then, and Tim wishes he could go back in time and punch himself in his stupid, self-centred face. In his mind’s eye, he can still see the stricken expression on Jason’s face when Tim had told him that he didn’t want to have anything to do with him.  
  
Jason, who is Robin, who already knew that Tim is his soulmate.  
  
Jason, who was probably trying to invite him over so he could tell Tim that he's Robin, and had avoided him for a week afterwards. Who was acting guarded and closed off around him the only time he’s spoken with him since.  
  
_Crap.  
  
_Was it really Batman who decided that Tim couldn’t know? Or had Robin - _Jason _\- lied to him, feeling too hurt to give Tim another chance?  
  
How quickly must Jason have gone from being excited to reveal himself to his soulmate to being gutted that Tim didn’t have the time of day for him outside of the mask? It doesn’t really matter that Tim hadn’t known they were one and the same; Jason had tried approaching him as a _friend_, and Tim had thrown it back in his face, had practically told Jason he didn’t think he was good enough to spend his time with. People have been saying since Jason was adopted that he isn’t a real Wayne, that he’d never be a proper heir to Wayne Enterprises, and Tim had likely dug his nails right into that same insecurity and pulled.  
  
No wonder Robin had been avoiding him.  
  
Tim isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with this newfound knowledge. It’s not like he can just walk up to the front door of Wayne Manor and announce that he knows Bruce Wayne is Batman and then demand to see Jason.  
  
Can he?

* * *

Tim ends up collecting Jason’s homework from his teachers the next day, pointing out that they’re neighbours, and that he wants to go check on his under-the-weather friend, anyway.  
  
He waits until after Mrs. Alvarez has already left for the evening before he makes his way to Wayne Manor, shivering in the biting chill of the pre-Winter air. He’s soaked through with snow by the time he makes it to the gates of Wayne Manor and buzzes the intercom.  
  
“Um, it’s Tim Drake,” he says when the butler - Mr. Pennyworth - answers, “I, um. I have Jason’s schoolwork.”  
  
“I see,” the butler replies, and the gates creak open, “Do come up and out of the cold, Mister Drake.”  
  
Tim barely remembers to call out a ‘thank you’ from between chattering teeth as he slips through the gates and makes his way up the drive to the front door.  
  
The door opens just before he reaches it, and Mr. Pennyworth steps aside to allow him entrance.  
  
“Please,” he says, “Come inside. You didn’t walk here, did you?”  
  
Tim shivers and steps inside, his teeth chattering as he watches Mr. Pennyworth close the door behind him.  
  
“Y-yeah,” he says, and the older man frowns down at him.  
  
“Goodness,” he mutters, before shuffling Tim further inside and helping him take his jacket off after Tim sets his backpack down, “Come inside, young sir. I’ll fetch you a cuppa.”  
  
Tim wants to protest and ask if he can just see Jason, but the promise of a warm drink is far too tempting.  
  
“Thank you,” he says, quiet and demure, just like his parents taught him, and he carefully kicks off his boots and removes his gloves - which the butler promptly takes to a room off to the side of the entrance hall which Tim assumes must be the laundry room. He’s probably setting them somewhere to dry off, Tim guesses.  
  
“Come along, then,” he prompts when he returns, and Tim follows him shyly down the hall and into a kitchen that isn’t too dissimilar to his own.  
  
Mr. Pennyworth guides him over to the table, and then shuffles off to fill the kettle and set it on the stove. Tim remains quiet as the older man waits for it to boil and then prepares their tea, returning a few minutes later and setting a steaming cup down in front of him.  
  
“Thank you,” Tim says again, reaching out to wrap his hands around the teacup and pulling it closer to allow the rising steam to warm his face.  
  
To his surprise, the butler sits down across from him with a cup of his own. He takes a careful sip before looking at Tim.  
  
“If I may say so,” he starts, “You appear troubled, Mister Drake.”  
  
It’s weird, being called that, but he knows there’s no use in trying to correct the butler; he’d tried and failed enough times at various galas and parties.  
  
He frowns, and steals a few extra seconds by taking a drink of his tea.  
  
“I… I need to talk to Jason,” he says finally, looking up to meet Mr. Pennyworth’s gaze in the hopes that he’ll be able to read his sincerity in Tim’s own eyes, “It’s really important.”  
  
The butler hums, and takes another sip of tea as he assesses Tim with a gaze piercing enough to make him shiver.  
  
“Might I inquire as to why?”  
  
Tim sighs, and his shoulders slump as he hangs his head and mumbles, "I need to apologize for being such a jerk."  
  
"While that's a very admirable quest," Mr. Pennyworth tells him, and his voice sounds a bit cool in a way the makes Tim shiver again with the certainty that the older man must have been told what happened, "Master Jason is too ill for guests. It wouldn't do to have him pass on his cold."  
  
Tim frowns, takes another swallow of tea, and then stares at the butler for a few long moments before saying, "I didn't know gunshot wounds were contagious."  
  
There is the briefest flicker of surprise behind Mr. Pennyworth's eyes before he pulls himself together.  
  
"Mister Drake," he tells Tim, voice stern, "I'm not sure where you heard such a nasty rumour, but I assure you-"  
  
"You don't have to lie, Mr. Pennyworth," Tim interrupts as calmly as he can, "He's my soulmate, and I know exactly what happened at Mr. Wayne's party. I didn't know who he was before, but I do now, and I _need _to tell him how sorry I am."  
  
Mr. Pennyworth stands up suddenly, his posture stiff, and Tim feels guilty for throwing his kindness back in his face like this.  
  
"Mister Drake," he says, "I think it would be best if you went home now. Shall I call your parents to collect you?"  
  
"No!" Tim yelps, then coughs, "I mean, don't bother. They aren't in Gotham right now."  
  
"I see," he says, lips thinning into a frown.  
  
"Please, if you won't let me see Jason, let me talk to Mr. Wayne," he tries, "I- I swear I won't tell anyone what I figured out, just. Please."  
  
“I’m not sure where you came across such a foolish idea, or what you think it implies,” Mr. Pennyworth says, “But I assure you that whatever you think you know is entirely false.”  
  
Tim frowns, and tries to straighten his shoulders out in false confidence even though all he wants to do is shrink under the older man’s gaze.  
  
“I’m not wrong,” he says, “And I mean it, I swear I do. I’d never tell anyone! But I really, really need to tell Ro- Jason how sorry I am. I didn’t know, and- and I must have really hurt him.”  
  
The older man frowns, but he doesn’t get a chance to say anything before another voice cuts in.  
  
“I didn’t realise we had company,” Mr. Wayne says, and Tim whips his head around so fast it actually kind of hurts. He catches the surprise on the man’s face before he can mask it with a smile, “Ah, Timothy. This is a surprise.”  
  
Tim blushes a deep red, and stands up uncertainly.  
  
“Hi, Mr. Wayne,” he says nervously, “I… Um, I brought Jason’s schoolwork? I was, ah, hoping I could see him.”  
  
Mr. Wayne’s expression slips a bit, and he shakes his head.  
  
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” he apologises, “Doc Thompkins says he’s still too contagious for guests.”  
  
Mr. Pennyworth must make some kind of gesture behind him, or maybe he mouths something to Mr. Wayne, because he gets a pinched look in his eyes before Tim even opens his mouth.  
  
“You don’t have to lie, Mr. Wayne,” he says, repeating the words he’d said only a few moments before, “I know who Jason is. I know who _you _are. And- And I know that means you know who I am. Who I am _to _Jason.”  
  
Mr. Wayne is silent, his gaze steady and calculating as he watches Tim for a long moment, probably trying to figure out if Tim is bluffing, or just acting on a vague hunch. He must see something that he doesn’t like, because the pinched look around his eyes returns, and he heaves a sigh.  
  
“Perhaps we should discuss this in my study,” he finally says, and Tim perks up.  
  
“Please,” he says eagerly, and then he looks at Mr. Pennyworth apologetically, “Thank you for the tea. I’m… I’m sorry for alarming you.”  
  
Mr. Pennyworth doesn’t sigh, but he looks for a moment like he might want to. Finally, he manages a strained smile.  
  
“That’s alright, my boy,” he says, “I can’t say we didn’t see this coming eventually.”  
  
Tim blushes at that, because he kind of thinks that, maybe, that means they think he’s smart enough that he was always going to figure it out if Jason didn’t get to tell him first.  
  
“Off you go, then,” he adds, shooing Tim towards Mr. Wayne, who turns away and silently leads Tim back down the hall and then up the stairs to the next level of the Manor.  
  
He stops in front of a door, eventually, and Tim figures it must be the study that he’d mentioned and waits for Mr. Wayne to open the door and invite him in. He perches himself on the edge of the seat that Mr. Wayne gestures towards, and tries not to be too afraid when the man closes the door.  
  
_This is Batman,_ he has to remind himself, _he’s not going to hurt me.__  
__  
_Still, he shifts anxiously, and watches as Mr. Wayne crosses the room and sits across from him, behind his desk. He leans back in his seat, faux-casually, and gives Tim that uncomfortable, assessing look again.  
  
“Why don’t we start with what it is that you think you know,” he says, finally, and Tim swallows hard.  
  
“Okay,” he says, then blurts out, “You’re Batman. Which means that Jason is Robin, and Dick Grayson is Nightwing, the first Robin… Which probably means that Wally West is Kid Flash.”  
  
The last part comes as a revelation even to himself, but he suddenly remembers Robin’s comment about how knowing Nightwing’s identity would lead him to Kid Flash’s, and he knows he’s right. Dick Grayson’s red-headed soulmate, from Central City - indisputably Flash territory.  
  
It’s so painfully obvious, now that he knows.  
  
He shakes off that newest revelation as best he can, and focuses on Mr. Wayne in front of him. The man doesn’t say anything, and his face gives little away, so Tim keeps going.  
  
“I figured it out yesterday,” he explains, “I… Someone at school, they said that Jason wasn’t sick, and that he got hurt at your party.”  
  
Mr. Wayne flinches, albeit minutely, at that, and Tim feels awful, but keeps pushing through.  
  
“And someone else said you both disappeared after the Mad Hatter showed up, and I guess… I don’t know, exactly, my brain just made the leap?” He frowns, and looks down at his hands, folded tightly in his lap to keep himself from fidgeting, “And it just made more sense the more I thought about it. They talk the same - Jason and Robin, I mean, and the timing works out. And… And Jason started talking to me right after Batman and Robin finally noticed me following them, I didn’t realise it before, but it’s true.”  
  
He chews his lip for a moment, waiting for Mr. Wayne to interrupt, but he never does.  
  
“I, um, I saw the Flying Graysons once, you know,” he says, “And… And Nightwing moves just like them. I didn’t see it before, but- His quadruple somersault, that’s… That’s one of their moves.” He takes a deep breath, and looks up at Mr. Wayne again, “And… And you have the right build, to be Batman, and you’ve got the money to supply all his fancy gadgets and tech. I know that you care a lot about Gotham, and The Wayne Foundation can only do so much, but Batman can do things they can’t, things that matter too…”  
  
He’s rambling, he knows that he is, but Mr. Wayne _isn’t stopping him_, and he doesn’t know what to do.

  
"I… I was really scared when it happened," he finds himself saying, and he rubs at his chest, the phantom memory of pain flaring up, "It hurt a lot. It _ still _ hurts a lot. So, please… Please, I just need to see that he's okay. I _ swear _ on my _ life _ I would never, ever tell anyone what I figured out. _ Please _ ."  
  
Mr. Wayne finally moves, leaning forward and folding his arms across the desktop. His expression is pained, and a bit pitying, and, for one heart-stopping moment, Tim thinks he’s going to deny everything, to pretend that Tim is crazy, and needs help, and Tim can feel tears springing up in his eyes. It seems to give Mr. Wayne pause, and he lets out a low breath.  
  
“You’re… not wrong, Timothy,” he says eventually, even though it sounds like it’s paining him to admit it, and Tim’s heart soars, “And I don’t think you need me to tell you how serious this is. If anyone finds out, my family will be in immense danger, and I don’t believe that you want that.”  
  
“Never!” Tim yelps, shaking his head frantically, and Mr. Wayne gives him a strained smile.  
  
“You’d also putting yourself in danger,” he continues, and Tim frowns, “Whether you are the leak or not, if you were to make yourself known, publically, as Jason’s soulmate… There is always going to be a target on your back, just waiting for someone to breach our security and learn our identities.”  
  
Tim swallows hard at that, and looks away.  
  
The thought had crossed his mind, of course it had, but he’d been thinking more about someone figuring out his relationship to Robin and trying to torture the names of the Bats out of him. He hadn’t thought about being target by someone who already _ knew _ , someone who just wanted to hurt Robin.  
  
It’s not a very comforting thought.  
  
Mr. Wayne sighs, and watches him warily.  
  
“You can walk away,” he says, and Tim’s eyebrows draw together as he looks up at Mr. Wayne again, “I don’t have to tell Jason that you’ve figured it out. Things can remain as they are now, and maybe someday, when you’re both older, when Jason is ready to retire, and go to college, or whatever he chooses to do, maybe then you can try all of this again.”  
  
Tim can’t help but feel like this is some kind of test, and he has to remind himself that he’s talking to Jason’s _ dad _ , and that he surely knows that Tim has already hurt Jason once. As much as he believes that Mr. Wayne is genuine in his concern for Tim’s safety, Tim’s pretty sure he’s trying to protect his own son, too.  
  
He takes a deep breath, and stares straight into Mr. Wayne’s eyes.  
  
“I don’t want to hide from him,” he says, and he thinks he can see something like respect fighting against the concern in Mr. Wayne’s eyes, “Jason is my soulmate, and he deserves a chance to choose, too.”  
  
Mr. Wayne tips his head slightly, “And if he already has?”  
  
Tim flinches, and draws in on himself, ashamed.  
  
“I know I messed up,” he says quietly, “That’s why I came over, to apologise. I… I was out of line, and I hurt his feelings. Even if I didn’t know, it still doesn’t excuse it. I was wrong to write him off like that.” He takes a deep breath, and blinks to clear his eyes, “If he- If he won’t forgive me, at least… At least I gave him the choice.”  
  
Mr. Wayne hums, and sits back, his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
“I can’t let you see him tonight,” he says after a moment, “The painkillers are keeping him too in-and-out of consciousness for that.”  
  
Tim shudders, and glances over towards the door longingly, knowing that Jason is somewhere beyond it.  
  
“Okay,” he says softly, even though it isn’t the answer he was hoping for.  
  
“But,” Mr. Wayne continues, “One of us will call you, when he’s ready.”  
  
Tim swallows his disappointment, and nods slowly.  
  
“Okay,” he repeats. 

* * *

Tim doesn't wait by the phone, per se, but he does make sure that the cordless is always nearby as he goes about his weekend.  
  
It isn't until Sunday night that he gets the call he's been waiting for.  
  
Mr. Pennyworth invites him over after school the next day, making note that Jason has finished with his school work and would appreciate it if Tim could turn it in for him, and Tim agrees eagerly.  
  
The thought of getting to see Jason makes it hard for him to sleep that night, and his classes seem to drag on more than usual, but when the bell finally rings at the end of the day, Tim is hit with a wave of anxiety as he takes his time heading to his locker.  
  
What if Jason won't hear him out? Or what if he does, but he still won't forgive him? The thought makes Tim's stomach turn.  
  
What if he messed up his chance at being with his soulmate?  
  
He can't give up now, though; he has to at least try. Like he'd told Mr. Wayne: the ball was in Jason's court now. All Tim can do is apologise, and hope that Jason is willing to give him another chance. If he isn't…  
  
Well, Tim has no one to blame but himself.

* * *

Mrs. Alvarez drops him off at Wayne Manor after school, and tells him to give her a call if he's going to be staying for dinner. Tim just nods, and says that he will, and then grabs his backpack and gets out of the car.  
  
Just like before, the door opens before he reaches it, and Tim offers a nervous smile as he's invited inside.  
  
"Hi, Mr. Pennyworth," he says, and he receives a kind smile in return.  
  
"Please," he says, "Call me Alfred."  
  
Tim nods, even though he's not sure he'll be able to make himself do that, and takes off his outerwear. Mr. Pennyworth once again takes it to the laundry room to dry, and then gestures towards the stairs.  
  
"Master Jason is still on bedrest, I'm afraid," he says, "I'll show you to his room."  
  
Tim nods again, mumbling a thank you as he follows the butler up two flights of stairs and then down a hallway. He stops outside one of the rooms, and Tim follows suit, holding his breath as the older man knocks on Jason's door.  
  
"Master Jason," he calls, "Your guest has arrived."  
  
There's a bit of shuffling on the other side of the door, and what sounds a bit like someone muttering to themself, and then Jason calls back, "S'unlocked. Obviously."  
  
Tim fights back a chuckle at that, because Jason sounds terribly disgruntled. It isn't funny, though, not really. Jason is probably miserable being stuck in bed, relying on Mr. Pennyworth and Mr. Wayne to bring him anything he needs instead of being able to go get it himself.  
  
It's even less funny that the reason is because he was _shot_.  
  
Mr. Pennyworth eases the door open.  
  
"Do try to behave, Master Jason," he chides, and then turns to Tim, "He is _not _permitted to be out of his bed, Mister Drake. Do not allow him to convince you otherwise."  
  
Tim swallows hard and nods, and then steps inside when Mr. Pennyworth moves out of the way.  
  
"Aw, Alfie," Jason whines, "Don' tell him that."  
  
"Young man," Mr. Pennyworth says, "If you get out of that bed without mine or your father's assistance, I _will _arrange for Master Dick to watch over you for the rest of your recovery."  
  
Jason's eyes go wide at that, before his face melts into an expression of horror, and it _almost _takes away from the sight of the bandages wrapped around his otherwise bare torso and the IV stand next to his bed, its line connected to him by a needle in his right hand.  
  
Tim can't help staring, his eyes starting to water, and he misses the rest of the exchange that passes between the two.  
  
Then Mr. Pennyworth is gone, the door closing behind him with a quiet _click_, and Jason turns his attention to Tim. He stares Tim down with a scowl, and winces as he crosses his arms over his chest.  
  
Tim does his best to blink back his tears, and takes a hesitant step forward before stopping.  
  
"Told ya before, I don't bite," Jason says after a while, and Tim feels his cheeks heat up as he shuffles further into the room.  
  
"I know," he mumbles, and Jason huffs, then pats his mattress.  
  
"Ya can sit," he says, finally looking away from Tim, "Or, yanno, whatever."  
  
Tim does so, albeit nervously, taking up residence at the foot of Jason's bed and turning to face him. He drops his gaze to his own hands, an attempt to keep himself from staring at the other boy.  
  
"How, um," he coughs, clears his throat, "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Like I got shot."  
  
Tim winces, but, when he looks up, Jason is wearing the most shit-eating grin, and Tim frowns.  
  
"That's not funny," he says, "It hurt a lot. I would know."  
  
Jason frowns at that, his gaze dropping as he picks at his blanket with the hand not hooked up to the IV.  
  
"Sorry," he says, "I wish ya didn't have t' feel it, too."  
  
"I don't," Tim replies, and Jason looks back up at him in surprise, so he continues, "I mean, yeah, duh, I wish you hadn't been hurt at all. But. You were. And if feeling it too is the price I have to pay to be your soulmate, then I'm glad I had to."  
  
Jason just stares at him for a long moment, and then snorts.  
  
"Ooookay," he says, "S'a lot t' unpack there."  
  
Tim shrugs, and looks down again.  
  
"Yeah," he agrees.  
  
The silence that falls over them is undeniably awkward, and Tim eventually forces himself to break it.  
  
"Jason," he says, looking up and not continuing until Jason does, too, "I'm… I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I was a jerk to you, and- and even if you weren't my soulmate, I'd still be sorry. I _was _sorry. I just… didn't think I deserved your forgiveness, so I didn't try to apologise. I'm sorry for that, too."  
  
Jason is quiet for a moment, and then admits, "I don't get it."  
  
Tim tilts his head, confused, and Jason huffs, his bravado failing him as he continues.  
  
"I thought," he says, gaze dropping away as he resumes picking at the blanket, "I thought we were friends."  
  
Tim feels his heart breaking, a small, wounded noise escaping him.  
  
"Jason," he starts, but the other boy isn't finished.  
  
"I thought ya were different," he continues, "Ya were always nice t' Robin, ya never said nothin' 'bout where he comes from. And- And I thought we got along ok, at school. And then… Ya said all those things, an' ya sounded just like everyone else."  
  
Guilt churns in Tim's gut, Jason's hurt even more obvious on his face now than when Tim had rejected him. His cheeks flush with shame, and as much as he wants to explain himself, he knows that he owes it to Jason to let him finish.  
  
"I figured… I guess, it wasn' that ya didn't care that Robin was from the streets, it was just, yanno, he was yer soulmate, or maybe just 'cuz he's a hero… Meant ya could _forgive _it."  
  
Jason moves like he wants to curl in on himself, but just ends up flinching from the pain it causes. He settles for tipping his head back against his headboard so he can look up at the ceiling instead of at Tim.  
  
"Figured if ya knew yer soulmate was just stupid, dirty ol' Jason Todd, ya'd change yer tune 'bout Robin, too," he adds.  
  
"It's Wayne," Tim interrupts softly, echoing Jason's own words from that day, but it doesn't seem to bring the comfort he'd hoped it would; instead, Jason just frowns.  
  
"And if it wasn't?" He asks, "If B never found me. If I wasn' Robin an' was jus' still some nobody street rat?"  
  
"Then… Then we'd still have met, someday," Tim tells him, because he has to believe that, "And I'd still want to be with you. You're my _soulmate_, Jason."  
  
Jason makes a frustrated noise, and, when he finally looks at Tim again, there are tears in his eyes.  
  
"And if I _wasn't?_" He repeats, "Ya wouldn't care a lick 'bout some Crime Alley stray if I weren't yer soulmate, Tim. Would ya?"  
  
And, Tim? Well, he can't really say anything to that. He could try to deny it, but it would just ring hollow. Sure, he cares about the lower class in so much as he feels pity and sadness for them, and that he knows it isn't fair that some people have nothing while people like himself have more than they could ever possibly need, but…  
  
But he's not exactly doing anything about it, and has never really considered trying to. Sure, Drake Industries donates to charity, but it's nothing compared to the programs and initiatives that Wayne Enterprises runs.   
  
He must stay quiet for too long, because Jason scoffs.  
  
"Thought so," he mutters, and Tim feels hot with shame.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispers, and swallows down the lump in his throat before adding, "But… I'd like to do better. Maybe… Maybe that's why we're soulmates, so you can show me how to do better."  
  
The look Jason fixes him with then is considering, and Tim dares to let a small flame of hope flicker inside his chest.  
  
"Maybe," Jason finally concedes, and Tim gives him a tremulous smile.  
  
Jason doesn't say it, but, Tim thinks that, maybe, the other boy is agreeing to give him a second chance.  


* * *

Tim doesn’t stay long, after that, Jason claiming that he’s tired and doesn’t feel up to talking anymore, and Tim doesn’t try to argue. Before he leaves, though, Jason extends a final olive branch and tells Tim that he can come over again the next day, if he wants to, and Tim readily agrees.  
  
The next afternoon goes a little better. Neither of them brings up any of the harder topics they still need to sort through, and, instead, Mr. Wayne helps Jason to the home theatre so that they can watch a movie together. Jason only winces sometimes when the film makes him laugh, and Tim is pretty sure that the older boy is taking that as a victory, based on the feral grin he sports when he manages to move without hurting himself.  
  
Because they can’t risk giving away that Jason was injured and not merely ill, he doesn’t make it back to school before Christmas Break rolls around, but Tim is dutiful in taking his work back and forth for him, and Jason seems to appreciate it. Tim doesn’t really pretend to get it, because, sure, he’s _good _at school, but he doesn’t actually like it, whereas Jason seems to _enjoy _school, and keeps lamenting all the lessons he’s missing.  
  
A few times, Tim arrives just as Barbara Gordon is leaving after spending some of her afternoon tutoring Jason on what he’s missing so he can finish his assignments. It’s not until the third time he sees her that realisation slams into him, and he’s left staring after her in shock. Jason laughs at him, head thrown back and arms wrapped around his stomach even though it must hurt, and Tim can’t help pouting.  
  
“I can’t believe _Batgirl _is your tutor,” he says, awed and, frankly, a little bit confused that this is somehow his life now.  
  
“Perks of bein’ a cape,” Jason chirps, and then promptly drags him off towards the den, “So, I don’ wanna alarm ya or nothin’...”  
  
His words, naturally, do precisely that, but Tim bites his tongue to keep from interrupting.  
  
“But BG ain’t th’only one visitin’ today,” Jason continues, and Tim’s eyes widen in wonder.  
  
It could be anyone, really, and he wonders if Jason will actually _tell him _who it is, or just leave it up to him to try and guess.  
  
But when they step into the den, it isn’t actually a stranger waiting for them.  
  
Sprawled out backwards on the couch, his head hanging down off the seat, is Dick Grayson, and Tim instantly feels his cheeks heating up.  
  
It’s not like he hasn’t met the man before, because he has, but he’s always found him ridiculously handsome, and now that Tim knows he’s Nightwing, it’s even worse.  
  
Robin - _Jason_ \- may be his soulmate, but Nightwing is the heartthrob of the hero community, and everyone knows it. Judging by the smirk on Dick’s face when he meets Tim’s gaze, _he _knows it, too.  
  
Off to the side, Jason _hrumph_s, and crosses his arms as, in a feat of true flexibility, Dick manages to gracefully tumble himself off of the couch and onto his feet without sitting up first.  
  
“Hello,” he says, offering a thoroughly disarming smile as he extends a hand towards Tim, “Nice to see you again, Tim. Little Wing’s been telling me all about you.”  
  
Jason looks mortified at that, his cheeks turning red as he sputters out a protest, and Tim blushes even darker. He’s almost too distracted by the experience of having Dick Grayson’s undivided attention to be embarrassed that Jason talks about him.  
  
He’s not too distracted to catch the nickname, though, and he grins as he darts a gaze towards Jason, who groans in response.  
  
“Hi,” Tim finally says, his voice hushed with awe as he shakes Dick’s hand a little awkwardly before letting go, “You’re-”  
  
Dick winks at him, and presses a finger to his lips.  
  
“Shh,” he says, “Al will ground us all if he catches us talking shop upstairs.”  
  
Tim tilts his head, and glances at Jason, who grimaces and then just looks guilty. Then again, they’d had things they needed to discuss, and Jason hadn’t been well enough to go… downstairs? Whatever that means.  
  
Even Mr. Wayne had only taken him to his study to talk, though Tim supposes they probably just didn’t want to trust him in their… secret lair until they knew how much he knew.  
  
He wonders if, maybe, he’ll get to see it someday, now that he knows things.  
  
“I don't think he can actually ground _me_," Tim points out, instead of asking about their lair like he wants to, and Jason snorts.  
  
Dick just grins.  
  
"Oh, to be young and naive again," he teases, and Tim blushes even darker.  
  
"So," he says after a moment, "What are you kids up to today?"  
  
Jason shoots him what Tim can only describe as a suspicious look.   
  
"Why?"  
  
"What?" Dick asks, his hand moving to rest over his heart, "Can't I show an interest in my little brother's life? You never bring friends home, Little Wing!"  
  
Jason grumbles, his words too muddled for Tim to make out, and then just sighs.  
  
"Ugh, fine," he says, throwing his hands into the air, "B bought an XBox so Tim c'n teach me how t’ play Call of Duty."  
  
Tim shoots him a surprised look at the news, stunned that Jason even remembers him mentioning enjoying the game back when they first started eating lunch together at school, and Jason blushes a little and looks away.  
  
Dick, it seems, is also surprised, but not for the same reasons.  
  
“Bruce bought you a _shooting game_?” He asks, tone disbelieving, and Jason shrugs, still looking at the ground.  
  
“I mean,” he mumbles, “I dunno if he knew what the game _was_. Yanno B, he don’t really ask questions ‘bout that stuff.”  
  
Dick hums, and looks between the two younger boys thoughtfully.  
  
“You really asked him for all that just so we could play together?” Tim asks when no one seems inclined to say anything else, and Jason shrugs again.  
  
“Ya said ya liked it,” he says, “And we didn’t have any other games… S’not a big deal. Early Christmas present, or whatever.”  
  
Tim smiles brightly as he approaches Jason and gives him a hug.  
  
“You remembered,” he says, his smile so wide it actually hurts a little, “You didn’t even know yet, when I told you that.”  
  
Jason blushes again, his muscles tense throughout the entire hug until Tim finally lets him go, and Dick coos at them.  
  
“This is _so cute_,” he chirps, and Jason hides his face in his hands.  
  
“Go away, Dickface,” he groans, half-begging, and his brother chuckles.  
  
“Alright, alright,” Dick says, putting his hands up in a show of innocence, “I’m going.”  
  
He turns back to Tim, and that smile is back, but Tim doesn’t feel quite so floored by it this time.  
  
“It was nice seeing you again, Tim.”  
  
Tim smiles at him, even as he shuffles a step closer to Jason.  
  
“It was nice to see you, too,” he says.  
  
Dick slips out of the room a moment later, and Tim is able to refocus his attention fully on Jason.  
  
“So,” he says, “Ready to become a gamer?”  
  
Jason rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, too.  
  
“Ready t’ watch the student become the master?” He replies, and Tim can’t help the grin that spreads across his face.  
  
“You wish!”

* * *

Tim's parents surprise him by coming home on the 23rd, and he's absolutely thrilled. They go out to dinner the first two nights, and spend Christmas Eve watching a local production of A Christmas Carol at the theatre downtown, and his mother even asks one of the theatre attendants to take a photo of them as a family.  
  
On Christmas morning, they give Tim a new camera and a new state of the art laptop, and he wastes no time in taking photos of the rest of the family affair.  
  
They actually cook Christmas dinner instead of having it catered, and it tastes amazing; Tim can't remember the last time either of them had cooked for him. His mother wears the dress he bought her, and his dad wears the new tie and watch Tim gave to him, as well.  
  
After dinner, they let him cuddle up between them as they watch Tim's favourite Christmas movie without a word about him being too old for Sesame Street.  
  
On Boxing Day, they spend even more time together as a family, and his parents even agree to a long game of Monopoly; Tim loses by a narrow margin, but his mother still tells him she's proud of how well he handled his properties and finances. He can't keep the smile off his face for the rest of the night.  
  
The next morning, their bags are packed and waiting by the front door, and Tim's heart sinks.  
  
He manages to keep himself pulled together throughout the morning, not wanting to sour the visit by having his parents leave upset with him. As soon as their taxi pulls away, though, he goes back into the too-quiet house, and closes the door, sliding down to sit against it.  
  
It doesn't take long for the waterworks to start, and he wraps his arms around himself and hides his face against his knees.  
  
He isn't sure how long he sits there until his eyes run dry and his hurt and sadness turns to anger.  
  
Four months. His parents were gone for _four months_, and they only came home for little more than four days.  
  
They were supposed to be home for a _month_.  
  
Dad was gonna take him to a hockey game.  
  
He lets out a wordless scream and then straightens up and scrubs at his damp cheeks with the sleeve of his sweater.  
  
It isn't _fair_.  
  
They shouldn't have bothered coming home at all, not if they were just going to leave so soon.   
  
He stands, and dusts himself off before storming up to his room and slamming his door behind him with another cry of rage; it does nothing to quell the anger burning inside of him.  
  
He picks up the picture of himself and his parents that he keeps on his nightstand and hurls it at the wall. The frame and the glass both crack, and Tim finally feels something other than anger. Crossing the room, he swipes all of his math and science trophies off of their shelf with another shout, letting them crash to the floor.  
  
His bookshelf is next, and he tears book after book off the shelves, tossing some right onto the floor and others at the walls. He misses with one, but he doesn't even care when he hears the screen of his tv crack, just screams again and throws another one right after it.  
  
He doesn't hear the window slide open, and the only reason he doesn't end up pulling the bookcase down right onto himself is because someone tackles him out of the way.   
  
He screams again, and he's not sure himself if it's out of anger or fear. He throws a wild punch towards the assailant before he's swiftly pinned down.  
  
"Tim! _Tim!"  
  
_He jolts, his eyes wide as he stares up to see Jason sitting over him, and sucks in several rapid breaths.  
  
"Tim, calm _down_," Jason growls, and Tim shudders, finally going lax beneath the other boy as he struggles to draw in deeper breaths, his chest heaving.  
  
Slowly, Jason releases his grip on Tim's wrists, and sits back on his heels. Tim scrambles out from underneath the older boy and then tackles him, his arms wrapping around him as a new wave of tears comes.  
  
Jason freezes for a moment, and then wraps his arms around Tim in return, holding him close.   
  
"Tim?" He asks gently, "What's wrong?"  
  
"They left," he says, but his words must have been too muffled because Jason carefully tilts his head up.  
  
"Try that again," he says.   
  
"They _left_," Tim says again, tears burning at his eyes even as Jason tries to wipe them off his cheeks, "They just- They left. Again."  
  
And then he's sobbing again, not even sure how intelligible his words are as he continues, "They just got here! They were gone for months and they didn't even stay for a week."  
  
He can feel Jason tensing up, so he figures some of his words must be coming through.  
  
"It isn't fair," he cries, "Why didn't they stay? They should have stayed!"  
  
"Oh, baby bird," Jason murmurs, and Tim lets out another sob.  
  
"Why don't they ever stay?" He asks, looking up to meet Jason's gaze, "What's wrong with me? Why won't they stay?"  
  
Jason looks heartbroken in the brief moment before he pulls Tim in close and hugs him for all he's worth.  
  
"There's _nothin' _wrong with ya," he hisses, his hand beginning to stroke up and down Tim's spine, "Sometimes people'r just shitty, 'kay? Sometimes _parents'_r shitty. S'on them, though."  
  
Tim isn't sure he believes that, at least not in his case, but it's nice to hear anyway.  
  
Jason squeezes him tight one more time and then pulls back and disentangles himself from Tim so he can stand. He reaches a hand down to Tim, who takes it uncertainly.  
  
"How'd you know to come?" He finally thinks to ask, and Jason's cheeks turn pink as he scuffs the toe of his shoe against the floor.  
  
"Was just wantin' t'see if ya wan'ed t' hang out," he explains, "But I heard a buncha bangin' and ya screamin'..."  
  
"Oh," Tim says, suddenly very horribly embarrassed about his outburst as he looks around his destroyed room, "Sorry I scared you…"  
  
Jason just shrugs, and then squeezes his hand once before letting go.  
  
"Anyway," he says, "C'mon, pack a bag. We're havin' a sleepover."  
  
Tim blinks at him for a moment, but the other boy's expression doesn't change.  
  
"You're- you're serious," Tim stammers, and now Jason is the one who looks confused, "You can't just- Will Mr. Wayne even let me-"  
  
"Are ya kiddin'?" Jason interrupts, "Tim. _Timmy_. B will be _thrilled_. He keeps sayin' I need t' do more 'kid stuff.' Dickhead used t' have his Titans friends over _all the time_, s'posedly."  
  
"Plus," he adds, "B likes ya, and we have way too many Christmas cookies left. Alfie will have t' take out our suits if we try'n eat 'em all ourselves."  
  
Tim can't help grinning at that, even if the part about Mr. Wayne liking him makes him blush.  
  
"Well," he finally says, "I guess we can't make more work for Mr. Pennyworth."  
  
Jason groans, and buries his face in his hands.  
  
"_Please _call him Alfred, or Alfie," he begs, "And how many times do I gotta tell ya ya can call B Bruce? I mean, he's, like, gonna be yer dad-in-law someday, ya can't call him Mr. Wayne forever."  
  
Jason doesn't even seem to have realised what he just said, but he does eventually notice the dopey look that Tim is giving him. It makes him turn bright right, and he sputters a few times.  
  
"I- I just meant," he stammers, his arms waving around wildly, "He's- He's my dad, an' yer, uh, we're- yanno? So I just meant-"  
  
Tim can't keep himself from giggling, and Jason turns even more red and turns away in a huff.  
  
"Shaddup," he mutters, and Tim giggles again.  
  
"I guess our kids could call him Mr. Grampa," he teases, and Jason _squeaks, _whirling around to look at him with wide eyes. Where his face was bright red before, now he looks very, very pale, and Tim frowns in concern.  
  
"Don't pass out!" He blurts, "Sorry! I didn't mean to- I was just joking! We don't have to have kids or be married or do any of that if you don't want to!"  
  
Jason opens and closes his mouth a few times, as if his words keep failing him, and then finally lets out a frustrated huff.  
  
“It’s okay, Tim,” he says, and his smile seems a little forced, “Don’ worry ‘bout it, ‘kay?”  
  
Tim hesitates, looking him over for a few seconds before he finally nods.  
  
“Okay,” he says.  
  
“Great!”  
  
Jason claps his hands together, and spins away to gesture towards the room at large, “Time t' pack! I can help ya clean this all up t’morrow.”  
  
“You don’t have to do that,” Tim argues quietly, and Jason shrugs.  
  
“Yeah, but it means I get t’ spend more time with ya!”  
  
Tim wants to tell him that he really, _really _doesn’t need excuses to do that, but decides to just accept the offer for what it is.  
  
“Thanks,” he mumbles, and then goes to retrieve his carry-on suitcase - he doesn’t have a duffle bag, or anything like that. He’s never been to a sleepover before, or played any sports - and then stuffs his pyjamas and a change of clothes into it, plus his toothbrush and comb. Then he hesitates, and looks back at Jason.  
  
“Um,” he says, suddenly anxious, “I don’t… really know what to bring to a sleepover.”  
  
Jason hums, and walks over to inspect the contents of Tim’s bag.  
  
“Me, neither,” he admits, and then looks around the room, “I think B’s prolly got anything we could need, anyway. We got all kindsa movies and stuff, and plenty’a pillows and blankets an’ all that.”  
  
“Okay, then,” Tim shrugs, and zips the suitcase closed, “I guess I’m ready, then.”  
  
Jason smiles, and reaches out to take the handle of the suitcase, lifting it up and gesturing towards the door with his other hand.  
  
“Lead the way, baby bird,” he teases, “I dunno how t’get t’ the front door from here.”  
  
Tim laughs, and takes the reminder to go close his bedroom window before he leads the way out into the hall. The misery he’d been feeling since the morning is still there, buzzing in the back of his mind and sitting heavy on his chest, but it’s a lot easier to ignore now, with Jason following close behind him.

* * *

It turned out that Jason was right; Mr. Wayne had been more than happy to have him over, and Mr. Pennyworth had been extremely accommodating, providing the boys with the kind of snacks that Jason claimed they _ never _ kept in the house.  
  
Tim starts spending even more of his free time at Wayne Manor, after that.  
  
He only sleeps over once more, but most days find him somewhere in the Manor, playing video games in the den with Jason, or watching movies with him in the home theatre, and, one time, they even go outside, a snowman building contest quickly turning into an all-out snowball war. Mr. Pennyworth - _ Alfred _ \- has two steaming cups of rich, velvety, homemade hot cocoa waiting for them when they finally come inside.  
  
When school starts back up, Alfred picks them both up from school and takes them back to the Manor and always has some kind of healthy - but somehow still delicious - snack ready for them while they do their homework.  
  
He stays for dinner, most nights, and he barely even sees Mrs. Alvarez anymore, since she’s usually gone home by the time Mr. Wayne or Mr. Pennyworth drives him home.  
  
One night near the end of January, Tim realises that, for the first time that he can remember, he doesn’t mind coming home to an empty house; his days are so full that he doesn’t feel like he’s suffocating from the loneliness anymore.

Jason resumes going out on patrol soon after school starts, and, even though Tim has stopped following Batman and Robin, January still passes by quickly, his days no longer dragging the way he once felt they did.  
  
Valentine’s Day creeps up on him before he knows it, and Tim spends _ days _ fretting over what he should do.  
  
It’s not like Jason has actually asked him out, and, to be fair, he hasn’t asked Jason out, either. But they both know what this is, don’t they? Even if they aren’t dating, Tim would argue that they’re definitely _ courting _ , and this will be their first Valentine’s Day together as soulmates, if not as a couple.  
  
But how much is too much? The last thing he wants to do is scare Jason off, either by being too presumptuous or by overwhelming him. He still feels a little bit bad over how uncomfortable Jason had seemed when Tim had given him his Christmas present, even though Dick had assured him that Jason has always been that way with gifts.  
  
In the end, he decides to give Jason a simple card and a paperback copy of _ Red Dragon _ . Tucked inside the cover, he includes a print of his favourite photo of Batman and Robin from his collection, taken several months back when the dynamic duo had been taking a break on the roof of an office building. Jason is in the middle of doing a back walkover, a wide grin on his face and his feet just starting to come up as he kicks out of his bridge, and there’s a distinct smile curling Bruce’s lips as he watches him.  
  
He gives it to him during lunch, and Jason nearly trips over himself coming around the table to give Tim a hug when he sees the photo.  
  
_ “Thank you,” _ he whispers, and Tim thinks maybe he still overwhelmed him, after all, but in a good way this time.  
  
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, and when Jason stays sitting next to him and just drags his lunch across the table instead of moving back, Tim can’t help the warm feeling that grows inside his chest.  
  
“I have somethin’ for ya, too,” Jason says, a little rushed like maybe he’s worried that Tim will think he forgot, “Just, ya gotta wait ‘til ya come over after school.”  
  
Tim smiles, a fluttering feeling in his stomach as he looks at the other boy.  
  
“Can’t wait.”

* * *

Jason’s excitement during the drive back to the Manor is nearly palpable, and Tim can’t help but find it infectious. Whatever Jason has planned, he must be really proud of it, and Tim is eager to see what all the fuss is about.  
  
Of course, he’s nervous, too. Not that he won’t like it, because he’s sure that anything that has Jason this eager is going to be amazing, but. Well, he’s a little worried his own gift won’t match up, and he’s _ also _ kind of worried that Jason might have… _ expectations _ .  
  
It is Valentine’s Day, after all.  
  
Not that Tim doesn’t _ want _ to kiss him, because he’s thought about it a lot. But…  
  
Well, Jason is older than him, and he doesn’t know for sure, but he can’t help wondering if Jason might be more experienced in these things. Maybe from his time before he was adopted, or with one of the few people at school who were dazzled by his rough ‘bad boy’ schtick, or even with one of the other younger heroes.  
  
Tim doesn’t want to disappoint him, or embarrass himself.  
  
“I wanna show ya somethin’,” Jason says as soon as they’ve ditched their outer wear and backpacks in the foyer. He grabs Tim by the hand, grinning as he leads him up the stairs. Instead of going up to the third floor to Jason’s room, they stop at the second floor, and he leads Tim down the hall to what he recognizes as Mr. Wayne’s study.  
  
“Are we allowed in here?” Tim asks, voice hushed as Jason opens the door.  
  
“‘Course!” He says, and then nudges Tim inside. He follows him in, and shuts the door behind them before walking over to the grandfather clock behind Mr. Wayne’s desk. Tim watches in confusion as the other boy starts moving the hands on the clock, and then his jaw drops open in surprise when the front swings open and reveals a staircase.  
  
_ “Oh my God,” _ he breaths, and Jason looks back at him over his shoulder, grinning widely.  
  
“Ya ain’t even see it, yet!” He says, and beckons Tim closer, “C’mon, c’mon. Yer gonna love it!”  
  
Tim takes a few hesitant steps forward, until Jason gets impatient and grabs his hand again and tugs him into the stairwell.  
  
It isn’t very well lit, so Tim sticks close to Jason, their hands still together as they descend the stairs and eventually end up in possibly the most high-tech room Tim has ever seen.  
  
Except, “room” isn’t really the right word for it. It’s more like… a cavern, perhaps?  
  
Jason finally releases his hand and rushes ahead a few steps, his arms spread wide as he spins around.  
  
“Welcome t’ the Batcave, Timmy!” He says, grinning when he sees the way that Tim is staring around the _ cave _ in awe.  
  
It’s…  
  
It’s _ amazing _ .  
  
There is a whole section filled with big screens and high-tech computers, and a row of tube-like glass cases not far from there showcasing Batman and Robin’s current uniforms, along with a few older Batman costumes.  
  
Wide-eyed, he turns around in a slow circle, trying to take it all in.  
  
The Batmobile is parked on a platform across the cave, surrounded by a few motorcycles and racks and racks of tires and other spare parts. Another area is clearly set up as some kind of medical bay, and Tim can see all kinds of equipment that he never really thought people could get outside of hospitals. There are shelves upon shelves full of batarangs, and grappling guns, and all kinds of other gadgets, and there’s also a bunch of mats like they use in gym glass sometimes, and an area beside that filled with punching bags and dummies covered in markings and bullseye circles.  
  
There’s also a giant penny, a huge animatronic dinosaur, and a giant playing card with the Joker’s face on it scattered about the cave, and Tim almost feels like laughing. It’s just so _ weird _ , he never took Batman for the type to collect mementos.  
  
When his gaze finally returns to Jason, the older boy is grinning widely, but there’s something in his eyes that Tim thinks means he might be just as anxious as Tim himself was feeling earlier.  
  
“Wow,” Tim finally murmurs, then spins to look around the space again, “This is- Wow, I can’t believe you brought me to your base! It’s amazing.”  
  
Jason’s cheeks are tinted with pink when Tim turns back to him again, and Tim doesn’t even try to fight the beaming smile that spreads across his face.  
  
“This is so freaking cool,” he says, walking over to Jason and looking up at him, “Thank you, Jason. This is, just, wow.”  
  
Jason’s smile softens as he looks down at Tim, but then his blush darkens and he looks away.  
  
“I know it’s not, yanno, a ‘real present,’” he mumbles, “But… um. I wan’ed t’ show ya, cuz… Cuz bein’ Robin’s important t’ me, and, um, so are you. I thought-”  
  
Tim’s smile dims a little, and he wraps his arms around Jason’s waist, pressing closer to hug him properly.  
  
“It’s amazing, Jason,” he repeats, head tipped back to look up at the other boy’s face, “I love it.”  
  
Jason looks down at him, teeth worrying at his bottom lip.  
  
“Really?” He asks.  
  
“Really, really,” Tim confirms, his smile growing again when he feels Jason relax against him and then hug him back.  
  
“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby bird,” he says, and Tim thinks that if his heart could literally beat out of his chest, it would happen right then.  
  
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jason,” he replies quietly, his gaze dropping shyly when Jason pulls back and looks at him. He looks up again when Jason takes his hand, and starts tugging him further into the cave.  
  
He allows himself to be led around, listening eagerly and drinking in every word as Jason tells him what the different gadgets do, and what kinds of things he and the others do down here (primarily training and detective work), and when they get to the area with the training dummies, Jason pulls out a batarang and hands it to Tim, who stares at it in awe.  
  
“Ya wanna try throwin’ it?” He asks, and Tim’s eyes widen before he finds himself nodding.  
  
“Can I really?” He asks, and Jason smirks.  
  
“Course ya can!”  
  
It takes several tries, as well as Jason pressing right up into his space and helping him fix his stance, but he eventually manages to hit one of the dummies in the arm, and Jason lets out an excited _ whoop _ .  
  
“Guess I better be careful, huh,” Jason teases, “Yer gonna come fer my title someday.”  
  
Tim laughs, but even though the idea is absurd, he can’t deny that there’s an appeal to it, too. Not to stealing Robin from Jason, of course not, but wearing a mask of his own, fighting at Jason’s side under another name…  
  
He really likes the sound of that.  
  
“Do you think Batman would train me?” He asks suddenly, blinking up at Jason and blushing when he sees pride on the other boy’s face where he’d expected surprise.  
  
“Maybe,” he says, a thoughtful expression on his face as he looks Tim over, “Bet we can convince him t’ teach ya self-defense fer now, at least.”  
  
“I think I’d like that,” Tim admits, and Jason frowns as he goes to retrieve the batarang.  
  
“Me too,” he says as he returns, “I’d feel better knowin’ ya could take carea yerself if somethin’ happens.”  
  
“You could teach me,” Tim points out, “If Mr.- If Bruce won’t.”  
  
Jason gets a glint in his eyes at that, and Tim can’t help shuddering.  
  
“Ya tryin’ t’ get all up close n’ personal?” He asks, and Tim blushes, his eyes going wide when Jason winks at him.  
  
“Jason!” He protests, cheeks burning as his stomach seems to do some kind of weird flip.  
  
Jason chuckles, utterly unrepentant, and steps right up into Tim’s space.  
  
“Cuz if ya are,” he murmurs, and Tim feels a chill run down his spine, his mouth going dry, “I’d have t’ tell ya ya don’t really need an excuse.”  
  
Tim reaches out to grab Jason’s wrist, seeking some kind of anchor to steady himself, and Jason gives him a smile that seems to mirror Tim’s own nerves.  
  
“I don’t?” He asks, so softly he isn’t even sure the words actually came out, but Jason must have heard them, or maybe he can just read lids, because he gives a small headshake.  
  
“No,” he says, and then licks his lips as his eyes flick from Tim’s mouth up to his eyes and then back again, “Ya really, really don’t.”  
  
Tim bites his lip for a few seconds, and then hesitantly lifts himself up on his tiptoes to reach Jason better. The older boy ducks his head to meet him, and his breath is warm as it fans across Tim’s face in the second before their lips actually meet.  
  
It’s… not exactly what Tim expected, but it’s not _ bad _ . Not that he really believed it would feel like fireworks the way everyone tries to claim it does, anyway. Mostly, it just feels… comfortable. Like it’s something they were both made to do, like something they’ve done a hundred times before, and it leaves a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
It doesn’t last very long before he drops back down onto the soles of his feet, and Jason pulls back.  
  
“Wow,” Tim whispers, and Jason looks a little bit dazed, his smile just a shade dopey as he looks at Tim.  
  
“Yeah,” he agrees, and Tim’s heart soars when Jason leans down to kiss him again.

* * *

Bruce finds them in the cave an hour or two later, and Tim is suddenly very, very glad that they hadn’t spent the entire time kissing, even if he keeps thinking about how much he wants to.  
  
Instead, Jason is guiding him through a few simple stretches that he insists Tim will want to get used to if he plans to start learning how to fight when Bruce arrives.  
  
“Boys,” he calls out, his tone some kind of midway between Batman and Bruce Wayne, and Tim looks over at him and sees Jason doing the same out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“Ya told me I could show ‘im,” Jason says immediately, his tone defensive and his shoulders beginning to pull up, and Tim frowns.  
  
“I know, Jaylad,” Bruce replies easily as he walks over to them, “I didn’t tell you to put him through his paces, though.”  
  
“Hi, Bruce,” Tim says as he straightens up, “Um, I asked him too. It’s not his fault.”  
  
Bruce frowns at that, and looks the both of them over for a moment.  
  
“You’re not in trouble,” he says after a moment, and he sounds a little like he’s surprised he has to say it, but it makes Jason relax, which settles Tim’s own nerves in turn.  
  
“Oh,” he says.  
  
Then, he adds, “Your secret lair is really cool, sir.”  
  
He wants to hit himself as soon as the words come out of his mouth, but the embarrassment is worth it for the way it makes Jason chuckle.  
  
“Secret lair?” Bruce muses, a twinkle in his eyes, “Yes, I suppose it is, isn’t it?”  
  
Tim nods dumbly, and Jason shifts closer to him.  
  
“B,” he says, “Will ya train Timmy?”  
  
Bruce doesn’t look as surprised by the request as Tim expects him to, and he’s reminded that he’s dealing with the World’s Great Detective. He probably already knew Tim would want in on the action before Tim or Jason had even consciously considered it.  
  
“I’m not going to teach him combat,” Bruce says sternly, and Jason pouts.  
  
He looks at Tim as he continues, “ _ But _ , I do think it would be prudent to teach you how to defend yourself, Tim.”  
  
Tim feels his stomach do a whole different kind of flip, this time.  
  
“So you’ll teach me?” He asks, his excitement barely contained, and Bruce nods.  
  
“Yes,” he agrees, and Tim’s smile is blinding, “But you need to know that it won’t be easy.”  
  
Tim nods eagerly, and Jason grins.  
  
“This is gonna be _ awesome!” _  
  
Tim can’t help but agree.

* * *

They don’t start any lessons right away, other than Bruce giving him a brief overview of what to expect in the coming weeks, but Tim still feels more energized than he can ever remember feeling before when they finally head back up into the Manor.  
  
“Tim,” Bruce says, reaching out to stop him with a hand on his shoulder when they enter the study. He gives a small nod to Jason, who stares at him for a long moment before nodding back and slipping out of the room, the door closing behind him.  
  
Tim blinks up at the older man in confusion, and is met with a warm smile that has him blushing and looking away.  
  
“There’s something else I wanted to speak with you about,” Bruce explains, and Tim can _ feel _ his heart rate pick up at that.  
  
Is Bruce about to give him the shovel talk? Why now, instead of back when Tim had first come to him about knowing their identities? Had it just taken him that long to perfect it?  
  
The hand on his shoulder squeezes gently, and Tim sucks in a sharp breath and forces himself to look up. The look Bruce is giving him is concerned, and Tim falters a little bit.  
  
“It’s not a bad thing,” Bruce tells him, and Tim lets himself relax just a little as Bruce guides him over to sit in the chair in front of his desk.  
  
“Okay…” He says, his confusion still clear in his voice.  
  
Bruce is quiet for a few moments, seemingly collecting himself as he leans back against the desk rather than taking the seat behind it.  
  
“I spoke to your parents earlier,” he finally says, and Tim sits up straighter, his eyes wide, “So I want you to know that they’ve already given their permission for what I’m about to ask you.”  
  
Bruce fixes him with a pointed look, then, as he continues, “But I feel that this should be your decision. I admit that I’m strongly in favour of it, and must urge you to agree, but I know that I cannot force you to.”  
  
Tim frowns, and tilts his head to the side. Whatever Bruce is trying to get at, it sounds important, but it’s also kind of freaking Tim out. What could be such a big decision that Bruce would involve his parents? It can’t be about Bat-stuff, because there’s no way Bruce just trusted his parents with that secret.  
  
“Tim,” Bruce says, “I’d like you to stay here, at the Manor, while your parents are away.”  
  
Tim stares at him for a while, the words bouncing around in his head but not really sticking. When it finally settles over him that he did hear what he thought he heard, he can already feel the moisture collecting in his eyes.  
  
A moment later, he launches himself at Bruce, whose entire body seems to tense before slowly relaxing. Tim lets out a quiet sob when Bruce crouches down and wraps him up in his arms, hugging him properly.  
  
“Shh, Tim,” he says gently, “There will _ always _ be a place for you here.”  
  
The words only make Tim cry harder, and he knows he’ll be embarrassed later, but, right now, all he really feels is a warmth in his chest and a profound sense of belonging.  
  
It takes a few minutes for Tim to understand what he’s feeling, but, there in Bruce’s arms, Tim realises that he might finally understand the feeling of “home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did the final edit for this chapter on mobile, so please let me know if there are any formatting issues that i missed!


	3. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: this was not only the first part of this fic that i wrote, but actually the first thing that i wrote for any of my fills for this event. hope you enjoy it!
> 
> additionally, a few important notes to tweak canon: jay didn't run away. since this version of the batfam is moderately more functional, he told bruce about his discovery, and bruce agreed to take him to meet the three women. they were already in the air when news broke about the joker escaping gotham. they were going to go immediately home, but bruce recognized brando as one of the joker's known associates with sharmin, the first potential mother, and from there it developed as per ADITF canon.
> 
> y'all probably already know what you're getting into here, but warnings for implied/referenced torture/violence against a child

_a year and a half later_  
  
  
Tim jolts awake with a cry of pain, and looks around his room frantically, feeling disoriented. He’s half expecting a burglar, or maybe one of Batman’s rogues, but there’s no one in the room with him. When his body jolts with pain again, Tim realizes that it’s not _him _who is being attacked - it’s Jason.  
  
Jason, who is on a _personal trip _with Bruce, not a mission with Batman. The thought freezes his lungs for a moment, which proves to be a bad idea when another scream is drawn from him, causing him to choke. Distantly, he hopes that his parents hadn't heard him and won't come to check on him.  
  
It feels like, like he’s - no, like _Jason’s_ \- being hit with something, hard and repeatedly, and Tim feels sick even as he scrambles out of his bed and down into the basement, where he heads towards the secret entrance to the Batcave that Bruce had installed.  
  
He stumbles through the long, winding tunnels of the cave, and tries to keep his breathing under control. He can barely see straight through the echoes of Jason’s pain as he finally gets to the Batcave proper, and he throws himself into the chair in front of the computer and opens a line to Batman’s comms, praying the man has them in. If Jason’s been taken, or if they’ve gotten mixed up into something, surely B has his suit on?  
  
“Batman,” he calls shakily, and there’s static for a long, terrifying moment before Bruce comes on the line.  
  
“Sparrow?” Batman asked, and Tim can only barely hear the confusion in his voice.  
  
“Batman,” he says again, “What’s happening over there? Who has Robin?”  
  
“What do you mean, who has Robin?” He growls, and Tim feels like someone has poured cold water over him.  
  
“B, he’s in so much pain,” Tim rushes to explain as another wave of agony crashes over him, his voice going thready with it, “You have to find him! Please, Batman, it’s bad. It’s really bad.”  
  
Batman swears, and Tim thinks he must lose a little time after that, because the next thing he knows, Alfred is there, directing Batman over the comms on the quickest route to wherever it is that he suspects Jason is. Tim must make a noise, because Alfred glances down at him in concern, and then reaches out to brush Tim’s hair away from his face.  
  
“It’s alright,” he murmurs, but Tim isn’t sure how he’s supposed to believe that when his entire body feels like it’s on fire, “It’s going to be just fine. You did so well, my boy.”  
  
Tim hopes that Alfred is right. He hopes that whatever warning he was able to provide was enough for Bruce to find Jason and help him. He can still feel Jason’s pain, and that’s a good sign, but Bruce isn’t there yet, so he can’t relax yet. There’s still a chance that he won’t make it in time.  
  
The sound of the chopper's blades cuts off abruptly, and Alfred and Tim both snap their attention back to the monitors where the footage Bruce had activated from his cowl is now displayed. There’s a warehouse before him, and Bruce dashes towards it, howling with rage when he finds the door jammed with both a crowbar and a chain and padlock through the handles. He pulls the crowbar free, and Tim feels sick when he sees the blood coating it - that must be what Jason had been being hit with.  
  
He watches with baited breath as Batman picks the lock and then makes quick work of the chain before throwing the doors to the warehouse open and instantly stumbling to a stop. There’s a woman inside who Tim doesn’t recognize, but his attention skips over her to focus on Jason, instead, as he struggles with undoubtedly broken fingers to untie the ropes keeping the woman bound. Jason is bloodied, his uniform and domino both torn, and Tim is certain he can see at least one bone sticking out of Jason’s skin. The visual to go along with the pain he's feeling is almost too much, and Tim has to swallow down the taste of bile in his throat.  
  
Batman makes a choked sound before he rushes forward, pulling Jason away from the woman just as she's freed and cradling him into his arms. Jason smothers a weak cry of pain, then, and Tim can barely stand to look now that Bruce is close enough for Tim to see his other half clearly.  
  
“Dear Lord,” Alfred murmurs, and he reaches for Tim’s chair, spinning it away from the monitors so that he won’t have to watch. Tim wants to protest, but, honestly, he’s glad to not have to look, and he doesn’t care if that makes him selfish or weak.  
  
Besides, it doesn't stop him from _feeling_ it.  
  
“I’m s-sorry,” Jason gasps, and Tim hears Bruce choke.  
  
“No,” Batman tells him sternly, “No, Robin, son-”  
  
Another voice cuts in, urgent and terrified, and Tim assumes it’s the woman who was helping Jason.  
  
“We have to go,” she pleads, “He’s rigged the place to blow.”  
  
The words hit Tim like a slap to the face, because the locked door makes so much more sense now, and Batman must come to the same conclusion, because he gives another cry of outrage before telling the woman to go. Tim assumes Bruce is right behind her, and doesn’t look back, no matter how much his anxiety is ratcheting up. He still doesn’t look when he hears the sound of an explosion less than two minutes later.  
  
If he hadn’t woken up-  
  
If he and Jason weren’t soulmates-  
  
If he’d hesitated even a moment before rushing to the Cave-  
  
If Bruce hadn’t been wearing his comms-  
  
There’s no way Jason would have gotten through that door, not without more time, especially in his condition.  
  
A sob bubbles up out of his throat suddenly, choking him, and then Alfred is there, pulling him against his stomach and running one hand through Tim’s hair and the other up and down his back.  
  
“Hush, my boy,” he tells him gently, “He will be alright. You saved him, Master Timothy, I can never thank you enough for that.”  
  
Tim just cries harder at the praise, gripping the back of Alfred’s jacket tightly in both of his hands as he allows himself to be held. Jason is alive, and Bruce will bring the world to its knees to keep him that way.  
  
Tim repeats it like a mantra in his mind until he feels like he can actually believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those familiar with the ADITF comic, assume tim was able to get the message out to bruce basically just before the chopper was shot down, which is how he was able to gain the time needed; he forewent warning the convoy to save jason. i like to think he did his best to contact the authorities on the flight back. 
> 
> thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed this! of all my works for the jaytim event, this one is really my baby and i've been so happy to see other people enjoying it! i'll see y'all again in a few days with a oneshot for week three!

**Author's Note:**

> an overview of the timeline, in case it wasn’t clear enough in the text/because there are a few things not mentioned explicitly:  
year 0: Tim turns 10 [jul.], Jason turns 12 [aug.], Catherine dies [nov.], Jason runs away from an abusive foster home [dec.]  
year 1: Bruce meets and adopts Jason [mar.] / Tim turns 11 [jul.] / Jason turns 13 [aug.] / Jason debuts as Robin [sept.]  
year 2: Tim figures out Robin is his soulmate [apr.] / Tim turns 12 [jul.] / Jason turns 14 [aug.] / Part I [sept.-nov.] / Part II [nov-dec.]  
year 3: (still) Part II [jan.-feb.]  
year 4: Epilogue [jul.]
> 
> tl;dr: basically, jason was about twelve and a half when bruce adopted him, and turned thirteen shortly before debuting as robin, which he has now been for a year when this fic really picks up. so, basically, jason turned fourteen in august, while tim had just turned twelve in july, and the story picks up in september, just after the start of the school year.


End file.
